Severed Heads
by preciselypotter
Summary: On the trail of a vampire coven, the Harvelles and the Winchesters converge in the backwoods of Eureka, MT. Jo's happy to see Sam, her new "on-loan" brother, but Dean... There's some history you don't want to mess with. Dean/Jo, lots of blood and fun. R
1. She Likes A Bar Fight Before Bedtime

Disclaimer: I am a devoted servant of the Great Kripke and would never, _ever_ steal anything he's ever created. I'm just having a little bit of fun.

(Author's Note): A couple people asked me to write a sequel to "Seeing Him Again," and I started thinking that Jo should take on some vampires. You know, just to complete the whole hunter/Buffy aspersion. So, the Harvelles and the Winchesters are gonna have some fun hacking up fangs.

You don't have to read "Seeing Him Again" to get what's going on, but who am I to scare away potential readers? Enjoy ^_^

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Severed Heads

Chapter One: She Likes A Bar Fight Before Bedtime

Jo hates it when drunk guys hit on her.

They always smell bad, and then they try to feel her up. That part's the worst. Because, you know, alcohol gives a man a) too much confidence, and b) no ability to listen to reason whatsoever.

There's one at the bar she's (unfortunately) sitting next to, and he's made three passes so far. Maybe she'd give him the time of day if he was good looking, but he's butt-ugly.

She's on her own; Ellen's back at the motel, probably catching up on her sleep. Unlike her mom, Jo's a night-owl and tonight she's got more insomnia than usual. So she's stuck here, the bartender giving her a sympathetic look as he mixes drinks.

"You ever been with a man before?" the man drawls, burping at the end of his question.

She doesn't want to know his name. In any case, she's got an allegorical identification card plastered on his forehead: Asshole No. 1 of the night.

The drunk guy's hand is attempting to creep up her thigh.

Jo looks Asshole No. 1 in the eye and says, "Keep touching me and I'll have to hurt you."

"Don't be like that," he begs, a drunken laugh to match. His hand's still on her thigh, and now it's squeezing around her hip.

"That's it," she growls, and punches him in the face so hard he falls off his chair. A few people stop their conversations and look at her curiously, but the country music is blaring from the speakers so loudly that her corporal punishment was only heard in the near vicinity.

"What's your problem, lady?" Asshole No. 1 asks from the floor.

"You think you can get in my pants, I kick your ass," she tells him coolly.

A guy walks over and gives his buddy a hand-up. He turns to look at Jo and she thinks he's halfway decent-looking and might just take him home. Or, you know, whatever.

But then he yells, "What's your problem, you fucking whore?"

And his name, ladies and gentlemen, is now Asshole No. 2.

"I'm no whore, and if he touches me again I'll string him up by his guts," says Jo. She crosses her arms and glares at both Assholes.

"Why, you little –" Asshole No. 2 is coming at her with a fist, but she's called his bluff. This guy won't hit a girl.

"Oh, I'm so scared," she mocks him. "Try and hit me, big boy."

Asshole No. 1 is the one who makes the first swing, though, and she barely sees him coming. Jo ducks just in time and he sways in front of her. Just for good measure, while she's getting up she knees him hard in the stomach.

Thank God his puke misses her boots; she's only just cleaned blood off them.

No. 2 looks like he's about to strangle her – even got his arms out – and Jo slams him hard in the nose. She can feel it break under the heel of her palm and the guy goes reeling. Now she's got her fists up, looking around.

"Anyone else?" she shouts, murder in her eyes.

Funny that these losers think they could take her on. Funny, because she takes out monsters and demons and spirits that would send them running in an instant. Jo's been hunting for three years now; it'll be an anniversary in a week-and-a-half.

But she's been taking down men who are too forceful since she was fourteen, and that's almost half her lifetime.

Her cell phone starts ringing, which ironically enough is set to the song "Womanizer" by Britney Spears. Jo maybe a bad-ass hunter but Brit is special to her.

It's probably time to go, so she takes out the cell and checks the caller ID while slamming down thirty bucks for that nice bartender. It's Sam Winchester, and it's also completely unexpected. But she did say he could call her.

She flips open the screen and heads to the door. "Hey, Sam."

"Hi," he says. Even through the tinny quality of cell reception he sounds awkward.

"What's up?" she's out the door and no one's given her trouble yet, which is a ten percent miracle.

"Oh, not much," Sam tells her. "I just… said I would call, so I thought I'd say 'hi' before you thought I forgot about you."

Now, see, why couldn't she have fallen in love with the sensitive brother? Sure he almost raped her that one time, but that was just a demon wearing his body. He's actually quite sweet.

Jo makes her way though the parking lot and finds her truck.

Dean has his '67 Impala and calls it his baby. Jo's got a red Silverado 1500 with only a year under her belt and she calls it her baby. Privately, Jo thinks her truck is a hell of a lot cooler than some muscle car, but she can't deny the Impala's got style.

"Good to know not all Winchesters are allergic to phone calls," she comments dryly.

Sam lets out a little chuckle that sounds more obligated than amused. "Yeah, Dean is…"

"He's Dean," agrees Jo. "So, what're you two up to now?" It's been five days since she saw them last and Jo's got no doubts they've run into something troublesome again. Hell, she and Ellen just performed a nasty exorcism only yesterday.

"Well, actually, I'm… not hunting anymore," he says.

Jo stops walking and starts fumbling around for her keys in her coat pocket. "I'm sorry, there must be a bad cell reception. I could've sworn you said you're not hunting."

The awkward chuckle returns. "I… I need a break from whatever it is I'm doing. I really haven't been myself lately."

She finds her keys and presses the auto-unlock button. Her baby gives a beep and a click to let her know she's good to get in. Five more steps, and Jo opens the door, heaves herself behind the wheel, and shuts the door.

It's a little hard to find something to say to Sam, because, after, taking a break isn't a hunter's thing. Hunting's usually personal, and vacations aren't paid for.

"Um, …wow," she says for a filler. "What're you doin' instead?"

"I've got a job at a bar Garber, Oklahoma," he tells her. "Pretending to be you for a while."

Jo finds this incredibly funny. "Me?" she manages to splutter through her laughter. "Little blonde girl, working for her mom, wanting to be a hunter?"

"The working part sounds about right."

"Oh, man!" she finally calms down, and gets comfortable in her seat. Clearly, she'll be sitting here a while.

It's nice talking to Sam. She's never really done it before; all the opportunities she had were wasted (or not) on Dean. Sure, they were nice conversations, but Dean isn't exactly nice. But the younger brother's got a softer way of speaking and she likes it.

"Where's Dean in all this?" asks Jo. "He the one you have to throw out of the bar each night?"

"Dean and I, we're uh…" Sam clears his throat and his voice suddenly takes on a lost puppy quality. "We're not working together anymore."

"Sorry, I didn't realize," she says, her voice subdued. She's not going to ask why because it's not her business. The way they jetted out of River Pass kinda showed that the boys had more secrets than a high school cafeteria lunch.

And just like with a high school cafeteria lunch, Jo felt she was better off not knowing.

"Listen, Jo," again with the throat clearing. "I, uh, was awake for what happened in Duluth. For part of it, anyway."

"Aw, no," she groans. "Sam, it wasn't your fault. So a demon jumped your bones. Happens to the best of us."

"You have no idea," he mutters. She can only just make out what he's saying. Truth be told, this is the conversation she doesn't want to have. Jo doesn't do chick flick moments, and she never will. It's just not her style.

Jo decides to make things clear. "I don't need an apology Sam," she tells him. "It wasn't you, and I don't care."

"No, that's not what I was going to say," he says hastily. "It's what the demon said about Dean."

There's a knot in her stomach that she wishes wasn't there. "Look," she starts.

He cuts her off, though. "Just… hear me out, Jo," he pleads. "I think you need to know this."

"I don't want to talk about Dean," she says firmly. "I've spent more time talking about him than I'd like to admit." Which is quite true and she doesn't want to do it any more. She's done moping over a lost cause.

"It's – he never talks about you," Sam tries again.

"Shocker."

"He literally refuses to talk about you. That's when I know he's got something he needs to say."

Jo sighs and drums the steering wheel with her cell phone-free fingers. "Sam? Is this the reason you called? Are you trying to make me feel better? 'Cause it's not working."

Sam's quiet for a moment, and she can tell he's mulling something over. "I just thought you'd like to know, he doesn't think of you as a little sister."

Jo doesn't know what to say to that. She doesn't want to feel excited or giddy, but her emotions are betraying her. She stamps them down, because what good is it to mope around about Dean Winchester when all that happens is pain, more pain, and some broken heart on the side.

Instead she just focuses on being angry, and angry works because you don't have to think, just feel.

"I don't care how Dean feels about me," she says to him, and it's almost true. "We're not gonna talk about him. Call me about anything else; tell me if you've got a girlfriend, whatever. But this whole thing we're doing, it's just you and me. He doesn't need to be a part of it."

"What _are_ we doing?" Sam asks. He sounds confused, and maybe she made things sound romantic when they're so not.

"You're being my on-loan brother," Jo tells him. "God knows I need one."

"So you're using me," he says, a bit of light-hearted humor creeping into his voice.

She scoffs playfully. "Screw that; you get an on-loan sister. It's a fair deal."

Jo's always wanted a brother, but after Ellen popped her out it was enough is enough, so she's an only child. Ash, while he was still around, did a pretty bang-up job of pretending to be a brother, but he was too crazy to fulfill the role. Ash is a painful subject and she pushes it away.

Sam already is a brother. He knows how to be that somebody. It'd be fun with him.

And, when she was still mooning over Dean (overtly at least), a couple of off-the-wall daydreams included him as brother-in-law. If you catch the drift.

He laughs, sounding amused. "Alright then. What's in the job description?"

"You haul your ass to wherever I am when I call you and we watch football together." Jo's completely serious, but she makes it sound funny.

"Sounds perfect."

"Make sure you call me again," she warns, ready to head home now. "Don't let a week go by."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he tells her. "Bye, Jo."

"Bye, Sam." She snaps her phone shut and throws it beside her on the pleather seat.

Jo puts her key in the ignition and revs up the engine, her Silverado baby purring. Her favorite analogy is that her car's like a cat that just finished eating a kill; maybe it's the hunter in her, but nothing's sexier than a contented feline.

It's only a five minute drive back to the motel, and Jo spends her time diligently not thinking about Dean.

What she's trying to focus on is Sam, her new on-loan brother, and it's funny because she's never really thought about Sam as more than a continuation of Dean. But he's surprisingly easy to talk to and she really likes him.

Not romantically though. That would just be weird.

The Blue Rose Motel is slightly crummy, and Ellen's already declared they're leaving in the morning. They've spend two nights (counting this one) and it's been an overall miserable experience. Jo's not gonna miss the town; most men don't like getting wailed on by a size 2 and she might get asked for Round Two.

Jo pulls in and parks the car, sitting in her car for a few minutes more.

What she wants to do is stop being in love. She's tired of how painful it can be, and how sex always has a slight undertone of guilt. It's getting old, not that it wasn't already. But only five days have passed and she didn't say a word to him the whole time.

At the time it felt good, but in hindsight it was pretty much a poor choice. Jo wishes she had at least yelled at Dean.

She sighs and gets out of her truck, ready for a good night's sleep.

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(Author's Note): There's going to be about ten chapters, give or take a couple… the action won't really start until about chapter three or four. Just hang tight, it's NOT a Sam/Jo fic, I promise. They just need to develop a friendship for... later. Can't tell.

Please Review ^_^


	2. There's Something Sketchy About Canada

Disclaimer: I am a devoted servant of the Great Kripke and would never, _ever_ steal anything he's ever created. I'm just having a little bit of fun.

(Author's Note): So, the first few chapters are going to be sort-of tags to the next few episodes. Just so you know – although I'm sure you've already caught on.

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Severed Heads

Chapter Two: There's Something Sketchy About Canada

"This is the third missing person in Libby," Ellen says from her seat at the crappy motel desk.

Right now, they're in Bonner's Ferry, Idaho, and while they came for the scenery, they're now interested in the missing persons cases building up in Libby, Montana. The police reports have said it's bear activity, but Jo knows differently.

She's wondering what kind of idiot supernatural being would take three people in two weeks and not expect a hunter (or two) on their ass. Jo's theory is that it's a ghost.

"And no, I'm thinking it's not a ghost," her mother adds from her chair.

Jo has to hand it to her; the damn woman's psychic sometimes.

"Jo, here's something," Ellen says suddenly, bending down over the newspaper as if getting closer's going to make the print clearer.

"What, mom?" she makes her way around to the desk and leans over her mother's shoulder. The mini-headline reads _Survivor of Attack Says It's Humans._ Of course, this could be something that takes on the appearance of a human, but isn't. Shapeshifter comes to mind.

"'_I remember a woman and two men came to our campsite,' said Meghan Sawyer, 25._" Ellen reads this aloud very cautiously. "_'They said they wanted something from us. I don't know what happened next – it all just went by so fast – but they grabbed Steve and just left.' Possibly due to post-traumatic stress disorder, Sawyer continued repeating to the authorities that 'there was something wrong about their teeth.' No doubt a hallucination, yet we still hope that Sawyer's husband is returned to Libby safely._"

Jo groans. "Seriously?" she asks. "Vampires?"

Her mother gives her a condescending look. "What's wrong with hunting vampires?" she snaps. "You getting' picky now about what you'll hunt?"

She snorts. Nothing's wrong with vampires. Nothing's ever wrong about hunting vampires. It's just that she's tired of the nickname "Jo the Vampire Slayer" catching on. Seriously, she's not Buffy or Kendra or Faith, and she doesn't want any stupid stereotype.

So, nothing's _wrong_ with vampires, but it couldn't have been a chupacabra?

"Are we heading out?" says Jo, wanting to avoid any questions about her aversion.

"In the morning," Ellen tells her. "First thing. I want to spend the day talking to this Meghan Sawyer."

Jo nods, and moves away from the desk. "I'm gonna go for a drive," she says. "I'll be back later." She grabs her jacket and keys and heads out the door.

Down the stairs, out the lobby (if you could call that trash a lobby), and out into the parking lot where her baby is sitting in the cold.

She presses the unlock key, opens the door, and gets in. it's freezing inside her truck, so she sticks the keys in the ignition and cranks up the heat. Before anything else, Jo waits for the air to get warm and then puts her hands in front of the vent.

Next is the heated seat, which she's sure the Impala doesn't have. Not that Jo's in a competition or anything.

"Finally," she mutters to herself as she feels the warmth all around her and she's not seeing her breath. Jo puts the truck in gear and just… drives out of the parking lot and to anywhere.

She doesn't know what she's looking for. It's ten o'clock at night, it's cold out, and she doesn't feel like a beer.

Her phone rings. Jo's startled at first, but she opens it without looking and keeps on driving.

"Hello, this is the Hunter Laundry Line," she says, hoping someone got the wrong number because it's her favorite line to use on unsuspecting callers.

"Don't have anything for you to wash, sorry," jokes the voice on the other end.

"Sam!" Jo feels her face split into a grin and starts looking around for a good place to park. "It's good to hear from you again. How's Lindsey? You ask her out yet?"

Sam clears his throat. "I left Garber, Jo," he tells her. "A couple of hunters found out I was there and…"

"And what?" Jo pulls into a Wal-Mart parking lot and stops somewhere above a white line.

"They learned some things I wish they hadn't," he says cryptically.

"Alright, alright, I won't push," she says, rolling her eyes. "Did they hurt Lindsey?"

"They tried," Sam mutters. He sounds a little lost. "She knows what I am now. She… I don't think she'll look at me in the same way again. So, it's best if I leave."

Jo nods, even though there's no way he could see that. "That's a shame. I mean, I know you were just starting to really like her." Privately, she thinks that Sam could use some sort of romantic affection. He seems to enjoy talking to her, but it's different with siblings and she knows that he knows that.

Sam laughs bitterly. "That's hardly the worst," he says, and his voice sounds shaky. "I… someone I've been trying to avoid dropped a bombshell on me a couple hours ago." He sounds scared, really scared, and she's worried.

"What is it, Sam?" demands Jo.

"I wish I could tell you."

"That's it," she snaps. "Sometime soon, you're gonna meet me somewhere and we're gonna talk about whatever this shit is."

"That might not be a good idea, Jo," he warns.

Jo rolls her eyes, because like Ellen's pointed out a million times, she doesn't get good ideas often. "I'm a big girl, Sam," she says irritably. "In fact, I'm older than you. And I've got a lot more punch in me than you seem to think."

He doesn't say anything for a minute. Then, "It's something that you wouldn't forgive me over."

She huffs. "Look, Sam, whatever you did, we're family now. Families find the time to forgive each other. I don't care if you went Dexter; I don't care if you caused Hurricane Katrina. Hell, I don't care if you started this damn _Apocalypse!_

"You just gotta say what's goin' on, Sam, or you're gonna explode. And I'll find a way to forgive you, I promise."

Jo feels like washing her mouth out. She meant what she said, but emotional speeches are not her thing. They never have been, and they never will.

Sam's silent for a few seconds. "I _will_ tell you," he promises. "I can't right now, but I will."

"Not asking for it right now," she tells him. "Tonight's enough of a feeling-fest to last me a couple weeks."

They both laugh uncomfortably for a few seconds, and it becomes comfortable in it's own awkwardness. Jo thinks that Sam has some very feminine qualities to him that she never really considered. After all, he talks about his feelings. Guys don't do that as a usual thing.

She'd consider his sexuality, but Jo's seen him looking at women a couple of times and the hungry look in his eyes already says which way he swings it.

Now the conversation's running dry, so she fumbles around for something to say. "So, now that you're out of Garber, what are you going to do?" she asks.

"I think I want to start hunting again," Sam says. "It's the best thing for everyone."

"You meeting up with Dean?" Jo ventures. It's the first time either of them have said his name since the first phone call. Every two to three days Sam'll call her and they'll talk, but he's the subject she threw out two weeks ago.

"He doesn't want to see me."

"How do you know? Have you called?" she demands.

Sam clears his throat. "No, and I'm not going to," he tells her firmly. "We decided it'd be better for us to be apart."

"Screw that," she scoffs. "Just wondering, Sam; did you hear my cheesy speech about family and forgiveness just two minutes ago?"

"…Well, yeah, but –"

"It's Dean's job to forgive you, and it's your job to forgive yourself," Jo says firmly. "Whatever it is you've done, it's time to learn from it."

"Jo, I'd love to, but it's not that simple."

"Bullshit." She's tired of him whining, and she's letting him know. "Just call the guy. I mean, the Winchester brothers are only famous hunters _as_ brothers. On your own, you're just Sam, and he's just Dean. That's not so impressive, know what I mean?"

Sam snorts, and the sound sounds like a sneeze through the phone. "After what I did –"

"You want to go hunting again," she interrupts him. "You want to see your brother again. Seems like it's the best idea."

"I can't." Sam doesn't just sound like he doesn't want to. His voice sounds so shaken and painful that even the thought of picking up the phone and speed-dialing the older Winchester is going to be like sleeping on a bed of nails. Jo's heart involuntarily breaks for him a little.

"Okay, Sam," she says. "Here's the deal. Call Dean and tell him what you need to. If he can't knock his ego, or whatever, down enough, you can come hunting with mom and I."

"So, you'd let me go hunting with you?" he asks, sounding shocked.

Jo cracks a little smile. "Gotta do what I can to help my on-loan brother," she tells him. "Actually, we think we found a vampire nest in Libby, Montana. We're headed up there tomorrow, in case you're interested."

Sam sounds so gleeful it could be fucking Christmas. "Sounds great. I'll see you there."

"Call Dean!" she almost shouts into the phone. "Call him or I'll tan your ass."

"I'll call him," Sam mumbles. "G'night, Jo. Thanks for talking."

"No problem, Sam," says Jo. "You just call your brother."

"Bye."

Before Jo can say "bye" back, Sam's hung up and she's left with a dial tone in her ear. Jo sighs and snaps her phone shut, looking out the windshield at the Wal-Mart.

Now that she's thinking about it, Jo could really do with buying some more food. Diner food annoys her after a while, and Jo likes making her own sandwiches and all that. She's got a hankering for beef jerky, thin sliced turkey, and of course chocolate.

Crackers are also on her munchies list.

Jo checks her wallet to see that she's got enough cash (which she does), unclips her seatbelt, and gets out of her baby. She likes her roadside food a little too much, according to Ellen.

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Jo's behind the wheel, heading to Libby, while Ellen sorts through her various fake IDs.

There's one thing she really hates about this part of the job; no one takes a tiny blonde girl seriously. They immediately suspect something's not right, and kablooey goes the investigations. So she flirts for information.

Ellen, on the other hand, has one of those no-nonsense faces and in-your-face attitude. You just don't question her, ever.

Unless you're her rebellious daughter, but even then…

"These small towns… police is out of the question," her mother mutters.

"Insurance agency," suggests Jo, looking over at the Kootenai River. It's a pretty sight, and she wishes that she could take a few days just to enjoy the scenery up here. But she's got work to do and the road's windy, so sightseeing just won't happen.

"Her husband might not be dead," Ellen says testily. "I can't walk in and discuss life-insurance while they're still looking for him!"

"We got something for like, a National Parks Association, something like that?" Jo fishes around for ideas. Cops are out of the question, FBI might raise suspicion, and apparently these small town Montana folks don't like outsiders.

Which is a bitch if you're a hunter trying to whack something.

"Wildlife Conservation," her mom grumbles. "Because that's got everything to do with so-called humans nabbing a guy."

Jo groans. "How about border patrol?" she offers. "We can say they're escaped Canadians."

Ellen snorts with amusement. "That's scary."

"Hey, those Canadians are weird," she says. "You never know what's going on up there."

"Well, we can go with border patrol or National Security," her mom debates aloud. "National Security's better; if they go any further north we'll actually run into border patrol and they might run a check on us."

"On you," Jo corrects her. "I'll be talking to the local bartender."

"I hate it when you do that," says Ellen, frowning slightly. She pulls out the National Security ID and puts away the stash of fakes.

She smiles at her mom. "Sucks watching your baby girl get hit on, don't it?" she teases.

Ellen glares at her a little, but says nothing.

Ten minutes later they start seeing houses, and they know they're close. Jo slows down a little bit and when they start going through civilization she begins searching for a bar. It's not too small a town, but it's no Tacoma.

After a few minutes, she sees a bar that doubles as a diner, and pulls into the parking lot.

"Mmm-mm, good," Jo quips. "You have the address?"

"Front pocket," says Ellen.

They get out of the truck together, Jo headed towards the diner/bar, and Ellen walks down the street. On her way in, Jo looks down at her cleavage and sees that it has enough for the perusal of men with information. A couple of sly adjustments and they'll say anything.

She walks in and there's some country music playing softly in the place. There's two men sitting at the bar, and they both turn to look at her.

Apparently, they like what they see, because they keep looking.

It's good news.

Jo sends them a come-and-get-me look before heading over to sit at a table, her body angled just so. Years of living on the road and at the Roadhouse have taught Jo more about body angles than a modeling stint. You don't hustle pool without looking stupid and pretty.

Just then, her phone rings. The men look thoroughly confused by her music taste, but it might just serve to make her seem even more like a dumb blonde than she already appears.

So she pulls out her cell and sees that it's Sam.

It hasn't even been twenty-four hours since they last talked. Hell, it's barely been twelve.

She flips it open. "Hey, Sam," she says.

"Hi," he replies, and he sounds so awkward she almost winces.

"What's going on? We just talked last night."

Sam laughs, but it sounds forced. "I, um, just wanted to say thank you," he tells her.

"Why?" Jo sits up a little straighter as the light-bulb flicks on. "Are you back together with Dean?"

"You make it sound like we broke up," he complains.

"Well, technically, you _did_ break up," she says.

"Yeah, but…" he sighs, a mix of exasperation and amusement. "I give up. We're back together, which sounds _so_ wrong."

Jo smiles and settles back into her chair. "I knew it. You called him; good for you. What happened?"

"I called him about half an hour after we talked, and he said no way," Sam told her. "He said it was safer if we weren't with each other. And then… I don't know what happened yet, but he called me a few hours later and now we're back on the road."

"And let me guess; you're calling because it's incredibly awkward," she says.

"Umm…"

"That's right, I _am_ good," Jo tells him cockily. "So here's the thing; we both know Dean is emotionally screwed. And we both know you blame yourself for pretty much everything. It's sort of expected things'll be awkward for a while."

Sam groans. "I wish things could go back to the way they were."

She rolls her eyes. "The past's the past, Sam. Ain't no going back."

He grunts his reluctant agreement, and clears his throat. He seems to do that a lot. "Anyway, I was wondering what I should say about this."

Jo pauses for a moment. "This? You mean our phone calls?"

"Yeah, our phone calls." Sam hesitates and the silence is thick with tension. "Do you want him to know about our…"

"Our whatchamacallit?" she supplies. "I dunno, Sam, what do you want to do?"

He makes a nervous sound. "Well, I kind of like having our own little thing. I mean, back at the Roadhouse, it was pretty much you and Dean, and I didn't get involved. It seems fair that this time, he doesn't get in the middle."

She thinks about it. On the one hand, having a brother seems like it should be just them, a one on one thing. Jo's not interested (bullshit) in what the other Winchester thinks. Keeping secrets may be a problem for the brothers, though, especially when they're repairing their relationship.

God, what a cheesy word, relationship.

Jo purses her lips and breathes heavily out of her nose. "Honestly, Sam, it's up to you," she says. "Not really my business."

"Okay."

"Where are you now?" she asks lightly, hoping to have a playful banter as their closer.

"Oh, uh- Jo, I've got to go," Sam says hurriedly. "Dean's coming back with some food, and-"

"No sweat," says Jo. "Bye."

"I'll talk to you later."

He's gone, and it's sort of hilarious that Sam is hiding their new sibling bond from Dean. It's like an affair, only they're family. She gets the mental image of Sam stashing Jo under his bed when Dean walks in to the room. Like hiding a porn mag…

She jumps back to the task at hand, which is flirting information out of these hoots.

But when Jo turns back to make sickly cute eyes at them, the two men have already up and gone.

"Dammit!" she hisses.

"D'you wanna drink, little lady?" someone asks from behind the counter.

Jo's a little confused, because she can't see anybody. "Yeah, if it's not a problem," she calls out.

A head pops up from under the counter, and a thirty-something man stands up with a towel on his shoulder. "Come over, then," he tells her. "You're twenty-one, right? I don't have to card you?"

She gets up from her chair and makes her way over to the counter. "Actually, I'm twenty-seven," she says. "I look young for my age."

"Not a problem," says the bartender. "It'll come in handy when you're fifty."

This guy is surprisingly smart for a small town Montana boy, decides Jo. She chooses a beer and gets comfortable for a few minutes before starting in on the guy.

"Hey, can I ask you something?" she begins, twirling her hair subtlety around her finger.

"Fire away," says the bartender, not noticing the hair trick. Either he's married, gay (unlikely), or just a gentleman that won't try something on her. Which means Jo has to switch into Plan B in order to milk out information.

"My brother, he's a bit of a rebel," Jo says, giving a forced laugh. She makes sure to feed in some sadness and guilt during her pitch. "He, um, ran away from home a few weeks back with a couple of his friends."

"I'm sorry to hear that," the guy tells her sincerely.

"Yeah… well, I was wondering," she continues, "Has there been a group that's come through here recently? You know, rowdy, night-owl types? It's the sort of crowd he'd fall into, and I'm just real anxious to get him back home. Our mom's been so worried –"

He cuts her off gently. "There was a group like that here not four days ago."

Jo leans forward intently. "Really? Do you know where they're staying?"

The bartender shrugs apologetically. "I heard something about a camping trip in the West K, but I can't be sure."

"West K?" she asks, confused.

"West Kootenai," he clarifies. "It's up north, across the reservoir. Nice hiking area up there, if you're interested. Good huntin', too."

She smiles brightly at him. "Thank you so much!" Jo pulls out her wallet and gives the guy a good-sized tip.

"I hope you find your brother," he says as she makes to leave.

"So do I," she calls back.

A four-day lead, but certainly not far a drive. Jo hopes Ellen found something else out, like the exact location of the kidnapping. Vampires are, by rule of thumb, a sloppy breed of supernatural and most likely left behind some shit they can track 'em with.

And she's hoping, somehow, that they can find the Sawyer guy in time.

-qp-qp-qp-qp-

(Author's Note): Okay, second chapter. I hope the setting is more visual than I usually write, because I know the area pretty well and I always thought it'd be perfect for a vampire story or something. Having fun yet?

Please Review ^_^


	3. It's A Damn Shame About The Machete

Disclaimer: I am a devoted servant of the Great Kripke and would never, _ever_ steal anything he's ever created. I'm just having a little bit of fun.

(Author's Note): This hiatus included swine flu (sorry, Babe, I mean H1N1), midterms, and the death of my stepfather. Just so, you know, nobody gets mad at me for taking a little break. No, I'm not making any of this up.

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Severed Heads

Chapter Three: It's A Damn Shame About The Machete

Jo has her headphones on (she doesn't _do_ earbuds) and she's listening to Journey, something she'd _never_ admit to anyone, ever. Because even the classic "Don't Stop Believin'" is considered cheesy. "Separate Ways" is just in its own League of Lame.

And somehow, pathetically, she still loves it.

Ellen's driving to Eureka from Libby, an hour drive that Jo begged to do sightseeing on. The windy, beautiful mountainous road feels like home.

Everything's so green and Lake Koocanusa below is resplendently dark blue, the choppy, short waves from the wind peaking in crests of white. There are very few cars along the road, and for a moment Jo can almost believe this area is peaceful and quiet.

But she knows it's not. There are vampires, somewhere in the forests.

She'd prefer waking up late today, but the two women spent the night in Libby before heading out again this morning.

They could've just driven the whole thing yesterday, but Ellen had a second appointment with Meghan Sawyer and didn't want to drive in the dark.

Jo doesn't blame her. After all, one measly guardrail stands between them and a fifty foot drop into some nasty water. Not something she wants to chance her life on.

Right now, even while she's cheesy eighties pop rock, Jo's thinking about why the fangs took three people in one week. Obviously the things are not very bright, or just young, because anything with half a brain about the supernatural knows about hunters.

Especially vampires. They've been hunted into near extinction. It should be clear by now that heads will roll.

Literally.

The worst part about the hunt for Jo is the anticipation, the anxiety over how many people she can save, and how many she was too late to retrieve. Each time she finds out that someone died because of her tardiness, she blames herself.

She hates admitting it because she feels weak. Winchester boys probably have more spine about saving people.

If Sam was here, she reflected idly, he'd be on her back about opening up. The guy's great and all, but he's too big on emotions at times.

"Mom," Jo asks impulsively, "D'you ever think about what it would've been like if I'd grown up with the Winchesters?" she turns down her music.

"I've had nightmares on occasion," her mother says with a nod.

"No, I mean, I think Sam and I would be a lot closer than we are now."

Ellen looks like she's thinking hard. "Jo, honey, I think Sam's a good man for you to be around," she says carefully. "These past few weeks he's really been there for you, and I can't ask more from anyone who is friends with my daughter."

"We're not really friends," Jo points out. "We've already established the "on-loan" sibling thing."

"I wouldn't tie yourself down to that," her mom tells her. "You might change your mind later on."

Jo snorts at the idea of romance between her and Sam. She has to check her gag reflex, but it's still funny enough to give a laugh over.

"Yeah, and remember when you tried to set me up with Ash?" she teases her mom, and then goes silent in horror at what she's just gone and said. Bringing up Ash, even after two years, is something the Harvelle women simply don't do with each other.

Her mother's jaw tightens for a moment, but other than that, there's nothing said on the subject.

However, it's painfully clear that this conversation about Winchesters or Ash, or really anything, is over and not open for discussion again.

Twenty minutes later (with a music switch to Jimmy Buffet), Jo squints ahead and starts to see some housing amongst the hilly area, and possibly Canadian Rockies if those snow-caps are any indication.

Maybe Eureka is a larger town than Libby. After all, the houses and farms apparently start two miles before the town proper.

Yet, the truth, as they draw closer, seems to loom ever more omnipresent.

And bingo! She's right.

"This is it?" grunts Ellen as she slows down to 25 mph. they can already see where the town ends and they haven't even started through.

"It's cute," Jo supplies helpfully.

"'Cute' is a word I reserve for puppies and kittens," her mom says. "This is just… small."

"But look at all the quaint little shops," she points out. "And see, they've got their very own mini-Supermarket. Think they sell Easy-Mac?"

Jo receives a disparaging look. "You and your food," Ellen says, rolling her eyes. "Start looking for a motel."

She looks around and instantly her eyes are fixated on one shining word that means more to her than a case of beer or some cheap sex.

"Look! The Silverado!"

"You would," her mother comments, looking amused.

It's probably very amusing to have a daughter that not only hunts evil things as her dream job, but also eats disgusting food, fixates on cars, has a knife and gun collection, and can burp the alphabet backwards and forwards on command.

(Because she can, you know. Burp the alphabet.)

It's probably very amusing, but Jo wouldn't know. Neither is she inclined to find out. Being a kid sucked enough and she's not planning on making any short people of her own.

The Silverado's not a bad motel, considering the size of the town it's plunked in. The fog and slightly sharp taste of cigarettes permeates the air without relent, so it's just like the Roadhouse when there was a Roadhouse. If it gets bad, air fresheners are always available at the mini-Supermarket.

Ellen's got them a room on the second floor (so Jo can look out the window at the Rockies), and for sixty bucks a night it's not so bad. Two queen-sized beds, a TV and a mini-fridge (and a nice hotel desk for research work) more than make up for the shitty bathroom.

Jo drops her bag on the bed closest to the window and falls back upon the mattress, sighing. As soon as Ellen gets some maps from the front desk they're going to pour over where a potential nest might be.

The only problem is how many places there are, so Jo's spending the day hanging out in a restaurant and talking to locals about what's been going on.

For now, though, she's staring at the ceiling until her cell phone gives a little "beep" to announce a text message.

She fishes the thing out of her pocket and flips open the screen to see Sam's number, the message saying,

_Where r u?_

Of course Sam would think himself savvy enough to use letters instead of words. The guy probably thinks he's the coolest techie in the history of cell phones.

_eureka, mt. it's quiet here._

_Found ur vamps yet?_

_that's next. wish me luck!_

_Luck. …When r u hunting?_

_dunno yet. bye sam._

Jo rolls her eyes and closes her phone, just as Ellen comes into the room with a swipe of the room key and dumps her bag on the free bed. "The place we're most likely to find them is Ksanka. Apparently, there was a huntin' accident yesterday."

"Hunting? You mean…" Jo trails off, hoping that one of their own wasn't hurt or killed.

"Like Bambi hunting, not our kind," says her mother. Interesting, how she can make the death of the most famous, adorable deer sound boring.

"Does that mean I don't have to flash people?" asks Jo with a pert smile.

Ellen immediately takes the maps in her hands and whacks Jo across the head, albeit not very hard. "You won't be flashing nobody," she scolds. "But I want you to ask around about finding your 'brother' like you did in Libby. Don't think I should go official 'round here."

She nods, understanding that her mother was giving her a compliment. The hardened woman would never say anything congratulatory about a hunting job outright, but the lost angsty brother played to all of Jo's strengths and it would be remiss to not mention that in some way or another.

Meanwhile, saying something like "thanks" would be stupid. "Scared of the local sheriff?"

"Enough cheek," her mom says, hiding a smile. "Get your ass in gear."

-qp-qp-qp-qp-

The hike up Ksanka so far is a pain in the ass.

Jo parked the truck at the bottom of the trail, about an hour back. She would've driven up all the way, but there's a green gate that got in her way. They had their machetes strapped to their backs hiking up this insane trail, and her feet are grateful for the hiking shoes she bought last month for their time in Bonner's Ferry.

Everything seems to work out just right, she thinks idly. Of course she didn't go on the trip she bought the shoes for originally. They were meant for vampire hunting!

It wasn't even all the gear she had strapped to her body. Jo hates the climb.

Stupid twists and switchbacks. Stupid Jo, thinking they could leave at two o'clock instead of twelve. It's nearing four, and since they're only out to do recon it could be a shady getaway at the end.

Ellen isn't much happier.

"I'm gonna kill the trail maintenance folks out here," she grumbles.

"Come on, mom," Jo says bracingly (she doesn't believe it herself), "It's not so bad."

"Why do vampires have to be so aloof?" Ellen asks, probably rhetorically. "I mean, they can't move in to a nice suburban neighborhood where we can kill them on the perfect front lawn?"

"What is it with you and suburbia?" she teases.

"Shhh!" commands Ellen, and Jo falls silent. A few seconds later, it's clear why.

There's a crackling sound behind them, like the sound of feet upon dead leaves. A methodical, quiet crunch of a predator.

Ellen points at Jo and gestures to a tree near them. The meaning is clear, and Jo steps deftly along the path to hide behind the tree. She slowly unclips her backpack and lowers it to the ground, thankful the tree is so wide to cover her.

Jo glances around, and her heart stops when she looks to her right. There's a barn.

There's not a doubt in her mind that the fangs are holed up here. But her mother's on the trail and she probably couldn't distract her, not with those footprints.

Snarling…

She turns to her right and barely ducks in time as a male vampire moves to swipe at her.

Quickly, Jo kicks low at the knee and the fang crumples with a cry that sounds more like a roar than anything else. Her backpack is forgotten as she pushes herself into a run, leg muscles screaming because sprinting from a squat is fucking painful.

She leaps out onto the trail and sees her mom swinging her machete at a female vampire, but it's in defense.

Ellen must have caught a glimpse of her, because she takes three seconds to yell, "Jo! Go!"

Jo takes off to the farm. It seems like a stupid move to an outsider, but she'd thought about it. A large group of vampires wouldn't have only two of them attack wayside strangers. They enjoy the look of fear. Most likely, these two are lookouts for the farm while the rest are hunting, meaning the barn is empty of threat.

It was the only thing that made sense, except that it's still sort of light out. The larger group must have just left to go looking for fresh meat.

The angry snarls behind her indicate the male is up and running again.

She's drawing closer to the barn, but is taken off guard when suddenly, she's airborne.

Of course there's a dead tree laying in her trajectory landing spot. Of course the ground is extra hard where she smashes through the rotting wood.

It wouldn't be a hunting situation if it weren't.

Thanking God or whatever was up there that her hair was up in a knot, Jo rolls to her feet and discovers her machete isn't on her back anymore. She ducks again as the fang charges at her for a second round and kicks him in the stomach, hard.

They're close to the barn, just a foot away from the wooden fence around the property.

She scans the ground quickly in the gathering twilight (the day ends sooner in the mountains, apparently) and sees the weapon near her feet.

Just then, she's tackled to the ground. The fang's making a keening noise, sort of like a pant, as it tries to get to her neck.

She can barely breathe, and he's stronger than her. With sheer determination she reaches down and slips a knife from her belt. Jo stabs it into the vampire's neck before he can bite her and he falls back with a cry.

A quick roll to her feet and she sees he's already recovered from her stab and standing by the fence.

The male vampire snarls at her, his teeth coming out.

Jo moves quickly. She grabs a large piece of broken wood from the dead tree the fang smashed her through, whips around, and uses all of her strength to drive the sharp point through his body. It goes out the other end and he's pinned to the fence.

Laughing, the vampire looks down at his chest. "This ain't Buffy, sweetheart," he says. He's obviously in pain, but must still be up for mocking her. "This shit won't kill me."

"Well, then it's a damn shame about the machete, now isn't it?" she shoots back sweetly, and bends down to grab her weapon of choice.

"What do –"

Jo doesn't even think. She just hefts the machete in her right hand and chops round in a crescent swing, fast and hard.

The newly severed head goes flying and lands several feet away with a sickening thud. There's blood splattered over her face and clothes, and she's reminded vaguely of a misty rain (only, of course, the red part and the coming-from-the-body part making a slight difference).

"Jo!" she hears her mother shout.

She spins around quickly and sees the female vampire charging towards her with murder in her eyes, obviously just escaped from Ellen's hold. Jo squats down and ducks the fang's outstretched arms, leaping up just after.

The female turns with a feral growl and comes back around, but Jo follows through and uses a backhand swing to decapitate the vampire. Blood doesn't just splatter this time, it squirts.

And of course, it can't squirt somewhere else. No, Murphy's Law predicts that if a vampire trachea is going to spew somewhere, it has to hit Jo perfectly.

It especially predicts that the target is her neck and right above her breasts.

You know, for irony.

Jo spits forcefully, in case some of the fang blood got in her mouth. That's not exactly a sustenance she wants in her body, not even factoring in the whole "turns you into a vampire yourself" problem.

"That was fun," she comments dryly, and then tenses up because she can feel someone behind her.

One movement and Jo's got her bloody machete aimed at the roughly six-foot predator, who puts his (she's sure it's male) hands up.

The man lets out a gurgled sigh and takes a step back, saying "Nice work with the fangs."

Her arm freezes, her jaw drops, and her heart gives a painful lurch as though someone tried to beat it in with a hammer. Jo lowers her weapon with a shaking hand, trying to hide the trembling all over her body. Air seems to be cut off from her lungs; or rather, it feels like she's breathing a lighter substance than air and it's making her dizzy.

Because Jo would know that voice anywhere.

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(Author's Note): Tune in soon to find out who the mystery man is. It _can't_ be Dean, that's just too obvious. (Like I'm fooling anyone.)

Please Review ^_^


	4. Any Other Time It Would've Been Funny

Disclaimer: I am a devoted servant of the Great Kripke and would never, _ever_ steal anything he's ever created. I'm just having a little bit of fun.

(Author's Note): Ah, I do love a good plot thickener. I also love people's insides on their outsides, as I state several times in my profile. I also love Dean unconditionally, and Jo with Dean, and Sam with his general awesomeness, and Ellen because she is GOD, and Kripke should write her as GOD since no one else can compare to her except perhaps Bobby because he is the ultimate BAMF and could take over the world if he wanted. I'm done.

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Severed Heads

Chapter Four: Any Other Time It Would've Been Funny

Jo's extremely self-conscious about the vampire bits all over her. In her moment of hysteria she's reminded of "True Blood" and how Sookie Stackhouse had vampire in her cleavage that one episode, and would Dean pull out vampire from her cleavage if she had it – does she have vampire in her cleavage?

And then she mentally smacks herself for watching True Blood too often. And for thinking of Dean going near her boobs.

But honestly, she's mortified.

It's bad enough he thinks she can't hunt. It's worse that one of her victims made her look like Carrie.

So instead of saying "thank you" (because he's probably being sarcastic about the good job part) or saying "fuck off" (because that's just rude), Jo puts the machete down and heads towards the barn, fully intending to look for victims.

"What are you doing?" Dean calls from behind her, and she can feel him start to walk quickly to catch up to her. Stupid spidey-senses.

"There's a chance some of the humans are still alive," says Jo, determinedly not looking at him.

"But there could be more," he argues. "You don't even have a weapon."

She stops walking and sets her jaw, but doesn't look away from the barn. "There were two vampires to guard this big-ass nest, and we made a lot of noise. The only logical assumption is that the others are out hunting. I'm going in."

"Why aren't you looking at me?" he demands as she starts up again.

"Not now," she tells him firmly, and increases her pace.

Jo steps inside the barn and looks around. She sees a couple of horse stalls and heads towards them.

"Hello? Is anybody there?" she calls out.

There's a rustling to her right in one of the stalls. "Here," a tired voice calls out. "Help us."

She looks around and sees a crowbar lying on a bale of hay. God, these fangs are stupid. They're definitely newbies at this whole sneaky "make things difficult for hunters" game. Jo grabs the crowbar and pries at the door.

With a pop and some metal groans, the door breaks free, and Jo counts four people; two men, one woman, and a teenage boy.

They're staring at her with a weird mixture of resignation and fright, which she realizes comes from a constant state of terror. It's as though they don't even register Dean behind her, which she knows he is because her back is tense and screaming with trepidation.

"I killed them," Jo says, trying to sound reassuring even though murder isn't ever a calming notion. "The two they left behind, anyways."

Looks of relief wash over all four faces simultaneously.

She takes a hesitant step forward because she doesn't want to scare them again. "Is one of you…Steve Sawyer?"

"That's me," the blond man in the back says.

"My mother met with your wife yesterday," she tells him.

Steve sits upright in a flash, his face taut with anxiety, the kind you get over a loved one. "Is she alright? Is she hurt? Did they do something to her?"

Jo went to him and knelt down, taking his hand. "Meghan is perfectly fine. She's been worried sick about you, though. We'll take you home tomorrow, once it's light out."

"Speaking of which," Dean interjects, "We better start heading down now. I don't want to walk all the way down in the dark, especially if their out hunting. That blood's going to be a magnet for them if we don't hurry up."

"Right," she says, looking down at her chest. She hates that he's right but can't escape the facts. "Can all of you stand?"

The four mumble their assent.

Jo stands up, holding out a hand for Steve. "We're gonna get you out of here."

The woman clings to Dean once she gets to her feet, and Jo tries to suppress her jealousy. It's not as though she has any sort of claim to him.

Steve and Jo lead the rest out of the barn and into the dim light, Jo only stopping for a second to grab her machete and her knife.

"Dean!" a deep male voice calls out. "Is Jo with you?"

"I'm here, Sam," she shouts back, a grin breaking on her face. She can't help it; after the past three weeks not seeing her new "brother" it's a thrill to hear his voice in something other than a cell phone with shitty reception.

The giant of a man starts jogging towards her, and before she can say "kismet" Sam's got her wrapped in a bear hug that she eagerly returns.

Finally, he lets go. "Is this your blood?" he asks, concerned.

"Hell no," Jo says. "I schooled those mofo's."

He laughs, and so do the vampire hostages. "Let's go," Sam says, and they head back down to the trail. Jo can see Ellen holding her backpack up.

"We're gonna have to come back to finish off the rest," her mom tells her, but really she means "I'm proud of you."

"So I've got time to pick up a deadbeat at a bar?" Jo asks with that little mock-hopeful squeal in her voice.

Ellen smacks her upside the head. "You better wash your mouth out when you scrub off that blood."

The hostages are all good hikers, it turns out. Well, if she'd thought about it, that would've been obvious because they were all taken on fucking camping trips and only lame rich people went camping if they couldn't hike.

The only problem is the woman who _wouldn't let go of Dean_ is doing this loud whimpering thing, and it's kind of distracting because it's almost dark and only Sam has a flashlight.

She wants to yell "shut up" but that would be insensitive.

Meanwhile, the teenager has decided to walk next to her.

"So, who are you people?" he asks.

Jo resigns herself to tell the truth for once. "We're hunters," she says simply. "We find things that don't belong in this world and we kill them, or destroy them, however you want to say it. You know, the paranormal."

"Whoa, like _Supernatural?_" he says, all excited-like, and when Jo raises an eyebrow, he goes on.

"It's this book series, right, and these two brothers named Sam and Dean go looking for their father because their mom, like, burned on the ceiling when Sam was a baby, and Sam's girlfriend did the same thing at Stanford, and they kill all of these monsters and ghosts and shit and hook up with hot girls and listen to classic rock and drive around in a muscle car –"

What the hell?

"Yeah, sure, like that," she says, cutting him off.

"I could totally lend you the first couple of books if you want," the teenager continues eagerly. "I mean, a couple aren't that good but there's some with really hot sex scenes."

Sam makes a bizarre choking noise behind her, and Jo is completely weirded out.

"I don't think I'll be around long enough to finish them in time," she hedges. "But thanks anyway."

Oh, but it would be so amusing to quote. Jo doesn't know how, but the there's no way to escape the coincidences and she knows the books are about _her_ Sam and Dean. It's kinda freaky and she's not really sure about it, but there it is.

Unfortunately, the teenage boy isn't done yet. "How long have you been hunting?"

"Just had my three year anniversary," she says. Hey, what's the harm?

"Awesome," he exclaims. "I mean, it's one thing for guys to hunt, but girls… it's totally hot."

"Umm… thanks," Jo says, frowning. This kid is freaking awkward.

"So, do you ever… you know, hook up with guys?" the teenager asks with a leer.

Jesus Christ. "Look, kid, I'm a lot of things, but I'm not a cradle robber, so just back off."

She swears she hears Dean laughing quietly amidst the continued whimpers of the clingy woman. Thankfully, the boy caught the drift and shut up.

Any other time, learning about these _Supernatural_ books would've been funny, but Jo's kind of on edge because she doesn't know what to do if the vampires catch up with them. She doesn't want to put the newly recovered hostages in danger so soon, and that's what will most likely happen considering the Kill Bill excess of blood on her.

Ellen pushes to the front and nudges Jo. "I see the cars," she mutters.

The group of eight breathes a sigh of relief as they reach the green fence and walk around it.

Jo runs to her truck and gives the door a little kiss, not minding the dust. "I missed you, baby," she croons. In the background she can hear some disparaging comment from her mother, but whatever. She loves her Silverado.

Dean takes over. "Alright Steve, Trucker, you're with Jo and Ellen," he says, and the two adult men move towards the truck. "Christy, Short Kid, you're with us."

She finds it immensely funny that Dean's letting a fan boy (albeit unsuspecting) get in his car, but is too grateful she's getting away from him to say anything snarky.

That and she still isn't keen on talking to the elder Winchester.

Once they get back to the Silverado, Dean books two rooms. One for him and Sam, she guesses, and one for the vampire food.

But when they get upstairs, Sam trumps into Jo's room with his bag of clothes and throws it down on the ground.

"We're letting them each have their own beds," he says to Jo, sitting down on the edge of her own. "They need it more than we do."

She tries to keep a collected face but fails miserably. He can see right through her, anyway. "Is Dean going to sleep in here?" she asks, her voice cracking in a really stupid way.

Sam shakes his head, and she can't decide whether to be relieved or upset. "He's on the floor in our room. The two men are staying there tonight."

"I would've thought he'd spend some quality time with Christy," Jo says, and she's pleased at how cavalier she sounds.

"Dean wouldn't do that with you around," he insists.

"Not sure what your little fantasy land is like, Sam, but this is the real world," she tells him. "Dean isn't going to swoop in here and, and profess his love for me or something. I'm not going to fall into his arms and we're not going to walk off into the sunset. What I am going to do is shower."

She makes it about three steps before the door opens and Dean himself walks in, closely followed by a man in a trench coat.

First impression: trench coat guy is _hot_. Like, really hot. Jo can feel herself staring and even starting to sweat a little bit just looking at him. "Oh, God," she whispers, and Sam lets out a little chuckle from behind her.

Dean shuts the door. "Cas says we shouldn't be here," he grumbles.

"You two have more important things to be doing," Cas says. He turns is eyes towards her, and she feels like he's piercing her soul. Not romantically, either. Just painfully.

"What's the harm?" Sam asks, standing up. "Four hunters on a case' it'll be wrapped up in two days."

"That's what I told him," Dean says. "Come on, man!"

"Why are you even here?" she says to the room at large. Because really, it could go for anyone standing there, preventing her from showering.

Hot trench coat guy grabs Dean's arm and yanks him into a corner, where they start muttering in low voices. Jo glances at Sam, who seems to be slightly uncomfortable for reasons unknown. Finally, they step back into the room.

"Two days," Cas tells the brothers. "That's all."

Dean shoves him out the door.

Both of them look at Jo, and she's still feeling a little flustered because _wow_, one insanely attractive male in a room is enough but two is just insane.

"Could I get his number?" she asks dreamily, and realizes she actually said that out loud. Shit, now she's going to sound like a schoolgirl or something, and that's not how she wants Dean to see her, ever. Stupid, stupid.

"He's not interested," Dean tells her. He sounds way too defensive.

"Was that your boyfriend?" Jo teases mercilessly.

Dean starts and gives her a confused stare. "He's an angel."

"Aw, cute pet names," she continues. "What's yours? Sugar bear?"

The older Winchester looks taken aback. Well, it's "understandable." After all, she's refused to talk to him unless business related until now, and even then it wasn't exactly a situation she wanted herself in. The thing is; being a bitch is so much easier than how they were before.

He steps forward, his face adorably (pathetic, Jo) baffled. "No, he's really an angel. Like from heaven."

Jo raises an eyebrow. "And I'm a virgin," she snaps.

The mischievous light in Dean's eyes is _not_ attractive, she tells herself. Neither does it make her heart skip.

"You know what?" Jo says, throwing up her hands. "Both of you need to get out. I feel like a fucking slaughterhouse and I want to wash this blood off me, now."

Sam moves towards the door with that sheepish look he always has once things get personal. But Dean doesn't move, even after Sam has stepped out into the hallway. He just stands there, looking at her with a determined expression, and Jo sighs because she knows he's not going anywhere until his piece is said.

He moves forward, and she forces herself not to be distracted by the way his mouth puckers slightly.

"I've heard absence makes the heart grow fonder, but I guess that's another hoax," says Dean.

"You should hunt that down," Jo mutters. "Nothin' a little rock salt won't kill."

"What happened between now and Duluth to make you hate me?" he demands, taking another step forward. "We always got along before."

She gives a disparaging laugh, because "before" wasn't all sunshine and roses for her like he seems to think. What, she was supposed to be blessed by his very presence, and nothing more? Never mind it gave her that funny feeling in her gut.

Jo hurries over to her duffel and starts fishing around for a nightshirt and some boxer shorts. "Think, Dean. Think real hard."

"Wait… what, is this because I, I didn't call you? Is that what this is about?" He sounds shocked.

"God, just… don't talk to me, okay?" she tells him, grabbing said nightwear.

"Jo, come on," he says, his arms out and open. He looks so fucking innocent that she's momentarily distracted by an urge to jump in his arms and hug him.

instead she brushes past him and that little contact sends irrepressible shivers down her spine.

Why the hell does Dean still have this effect on her? Jo's a good actress but one day she'll slip (maybe even on this hunt) and she'll be mortified.

"You know what it is?" she turns to face him once she reaches the bathroom door. "I'm tired of trying to earn your acceptance, or your respect – I know you still think I'm an amateur, and I can't do the job! I'm sick of wanting your –your…"

she can't say love.

Dean's face softens a little. "You've come a long way since Philly," he says.

The compliment means more to her than Jo wants to acknowledge, so she shuts the door and locks herself in the bathroom.

When she turns the light on, the fan starts going too, and Jo takes it as a sign she can let out her panicked breathing.

What are the Winchesters doing here? She's 95% percent positive that Sam's behind it. Jo fucking sent him a text seven hours ago saying she and Ellen were in Eureka. Details even included the time of the hunt and where.

But she didn't suspect they would actually show up until Dean was standing right before her.

Jo steps out of her bloodstained clothes with some difficulty; blood has this funny way of crusting and sticking when it dries. She turns on the water and steps into the shower.

Maybe it'll be a good thing, she muses as she grabs the complementary bar of soap. She'll have a chance to really hang out with Sam, and four hunters are better than two. After all, she doesn't have to talk to Dean. Not if she doesn't want to.

While she's musing about the Winchesters and possible ways to destroy the remaining fangs, the light goes off. And for kicks, the water turns ice cold.

She lets out an involuntary shriek, because you know, when you can't see anything and you're in freezing cold water, it's knee-jerk.

"Jo?"

Aw, dammit.

"Jo!" Dean yells again, and before she can say otherwise the door splinters and the light (along with the fan) comes back on.

"Get out of my bathroom!" she screams angrily.

"But… I heard you…"

Jo reaches down a shaky hand and turns off the water, lessening the noise but not her goosebumps. She tugs on the shower curtain and sticks her head out, careful to hide everything else since she knows full well that his eyes _would_ look at her body, even if he's not interested in having it.

She smiles at him sarcastically. "Dean, the water got cold. The light went off."

He shuffles his feet. "Sorry."

"Can you go now?" Jo says, and sure enough before he leaves, there's a moment where she can see him look at the curtain curiously.

"Dean!" she snaps.

"Sorry," he says again, and exits.

Jo rolls her eyes and turns the water back on carefully, glad to find that it was at least warm again, if not hot.

And she's got to admit, that little moment of protectiveness when he smashed down the door was sweet, if not moronic. She kind of likes it.

-qp-qp-qp-qp-

(Author's Note): I sort of had to bring in the book series humor. It was just right there, and I had to take it. same applies for the Dean and Castiel joke, and the anti-sexy shower scene. I mean, it's all just waiting to be made into a fanfiction cliché again and again.

Please Review ^_^


	5. Sam Gets Hog Tied By His Intestines

Disclaimer: I am a devoted servant of the Great Kripke and would never, _ever_ steal anything he's ever created. I'm just having a little bit of fun.

(Author's Note): ahem, SPOILER: I just found out that Jo and Ellen will be back for 5x10, which I'm excited about, but then I also know that a couple of characters might die in the same episode, so my gut is rolling with anxiety. She's my favorite female character (excepting GOD herself, Ellen), so fingers crossed, y'all.

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Severed Heads

Chapter Five: Sam Gets Hog-Tied By His Intestines

Mornings seem to always consist of obituary runs. Not to mention missing persons ads. That's the sick, morbid life of a hunter: did you die suspiciously? We'll come see if it's cool enough for us to investigate! Have a nice after-life!

This particular morning they're looking for something that may have happened last night, new fang bait that got taken while they were busy.

Jo stretches lazily on her bed as Sam leans over the desk.

"You coming or what?" he teases.

"Give me a second," she says, and kicks off her covers. Her shirt rode up her waist in the night, and she tugs it down hastily. Not like she thinks Sam's a pervert or anything, but you never know when a certain Adonis is going to kick down a door.

Speaking of which…

"Dean fix the bathroom door yet?" asks Jo, swinging her legs out of bed and standing up.

"He's going to once you leave today."

"Where's my mom?"

Sam swivels his chair around. "She took the truck to bring all the victims home. Her exact quote was 'I won't scratch it, you idiot,' so I'm assuming it's yours."

Jo grins and looks through her bag for a pair of jeans she can sling on. "My baby."

He laughs. "You and Dean; all cars, all the time."

She gives him a stern look. "I don't have a car. I have a truck, and it kicks ass." Jo moves toward the bathroom, but realizes there's no privacy there anyway. "Sam? Would you mind turning around?"

"Oh, yeah, sure," he says. She's glad to know that it's not just the phone that makes him awkward, it's everything else as well.

Jo moves back over to her bag and pulls out a bra. Experience has taught her how to slip one on under a shirt, and she does that. Next is a hasty switch of pants from shorts, and finally she rummages around and tugs on a shirt, walking towards Sam as she does so.

"It's good to see you," she tells him honestly.

Sam looks up at her and smiles. "You told me to come see you soon," he says. "I figured, why not tomorrow?"

She grins. "Twenty-four hours and you already want to get away from your brother?" she teases.

He doesn't look amused. Probably, the humor ran flat considering everything that goes on in his world.

"Every time I look at Dean, all I can think about is how much I've screwed up," admits Sam. "I mean, he knows more than anyone what I've done and I'm asking him to get past it. If I were in his position, I don't know what I'd do."

"I'm in his position," she offers. "Well, sort of, anyway."

Sam shakes his head. "You couldn't understand."

"I'd like to," Jo tells him. "I'd be a shitty on-loan sister if I didn't try to help you."

"I'm afraid that if I tell you, you won't want anything to do with me."

She puts a hand on his back and rubs warmly, like her mother always does. "You know, Sam, I'm never gonna judge you for anything. I mean, I care about you enough to say sappy things on a regular basis, right?"

They laugh comfortably, and Sam reaches back to cover her hand with his. They smile at each other, and Jo tries to tell him that everything's gonna be alright in the end.

The door opens, and Jo looks over to see Dean come in with three sacks of food.

"What d'you get?" she asks him.

Dean takes a while to respond, and he's looking at them with surprise and frustration and annoyance. "Subway," he grunts.

Jo smirks and drops her hand from Sam's back only to give him a light sock on the arm. "Lindsey's favorite," she teases Sam, and walks over to grab two bags.

"Who's Lindsey?" Dean asks, a frown on his face.

"Sam didn't tell you?" she looks between the two brothers. Sam is staring at a spot on the floor so hard it might burst into flames, while Dean is eyeing his little brother with mistrust and aggravation etched all over his face.

"Why would Sam tell you?" the older brother wonders in a low tone.

She sighs. "Tell him," she says to Sam. "You dragged him here, might as well 'fess up."

Sam shifts in his chair but still doesn't look up. "Jo and I… have been in, er, close contact."

She half-expects Dean to have steam coming out of his ears, but he seems to be instead exuding a quiet sort of rage. He's no longer the snappy, angst-ridden man that walked into the Roadhouse three years before. There's something darker about him, and he feels like a volcano that doesn't erupt but oozes lava in a much scarier capacity. To be honest, the Dean she knew isn't visible and that fact scares Jo more than if he were yelling.

"What?" he says to Sam. "How long has this been going on?"

"Since River Pass," his brother answers.

Dean takes an offended pose. "Whoa, hold up. Why didn't I know about this?"

"Because I don't need your permission to do things or see people," Sam snaps, looking up at last.

"I think the jury's still out on that one."

Sam throws up his hands. "Jo and I are both adults, Dean," he says. "I mean, you've got Cas whenever you don't want to speak to me; maybe I need someone to talk to that isn't you, and Jo's a hell of a lot easier to talk to."

"And does Jo know what you've done?" Dean sounds angrier by the second, like his brother has committed some grave transgression.

"He'll tell me when he's ready," Jo jumps in, aware the older Winchester might say it aloud.

"Oh," he grunts, and rolls his eyes. "Well, I'll let you two have you're little heart-to-heart about how Sam here ended the world."

"Dean –" Sam starts, looking upset.

His brother just shakes his head. "What are we even doing here?" he asks frustratedly.

Jo steps forward. "He's here to see me," she says. "I told him mom and I were hunting vampires, and he could come by if he wanted. Of course, I made that offer before he hooked back up with you. It was supposed to be his back up plan."

"What?" Dean says, frowning.

"She's the one who convinced me to call you," Sam admits, reaching out to touch Jo's arm.

Jo sees that the older brother watches this motion very carefully, and a something clicks in his face that she doesn't understand. But then he opens his mouth, and it's like _oh, God_ _I really hope you aren't thinking what I think you're thinking._

He clears his throat and says. "I think I'll just leave you two… alone."

And he's got this expression she can't read, and shit, he was thinking it after all.

Sam seems to realize what Dean mistakenly concluded, and says, "Wait, you don't understand –"

But he's walked out the door by then, and she just exchanges a guilty look with the younger Winchester. Because they know he thinks they're a couple, and she knows he sees that as a further example of keeping secrets.

Jo turns to Sam, and says, "I think you better start talking, dude."

-qp-qp-qp-qp-

"So, let me get this straight," Jo says slowly, her subway sandwich forgotten in her hand. Well, who could blame her? Bombshells wait for no breakfast. "Dean almost died, so John made a deal to switch his life for him. And then you go and get yourself killed –"

"The demon set up all of the special kids to kill each other," Sam defends himself. "I didn't want to be a murderer."

She nods slowly. "And then Dean made a deal to bring you to life, with one year to live, and then he died… I'm sorry, but _angels?_" she still couldn't wrap her head around it.

Sam looks at her intently, and she wants to flinch. "That guy who was here last night? His name is Castiel. He's the one who pulled Dean from hell."

"They seem close," Jo says. She observes the faint flash of jealousy on his face.

"Cas… well, he's gone through a lot for Dean. He turned against heaven once we realized the angels were trying to bring the apocalypse. It would've been easy for him to stay with heaven, but he did it for Dean." Sam sighs heavily. "He would do anything for Dean, and I'm pretty sure it goes the same way."

"And you feel like you've been pushed to the side," she assumes.

"Yeah, well…" he leans back in his chair and looks despondent. "You have to understand, Jo, I ignored every warning Dean and Bobby and the angels gave me. I ran off with a demon instead of sticking with my brother, and I drunk demon blood. Hell, I _liked_ it. I set the devil free and I'm supposed to be his vessel."

Jo sits back.

She's fighting hard to remain neutral, but it feels like everything is upside down. Well, for good reason.

"Dean went to hell?" is the only thing that comes out her mouth.

"I shouldn't tell you about that," Sam says. "I mean, it's something he wouldn't want to talk about already."

It makes sense now, all of it. The pain in his face, the way he moves differently. Dean's supposed to single-handedly wipe out the Devil, he underwent God know what in the pit of hell, he and Sam are supposed to be cosmic enemies. And after what Sam did…

She can't help it. Her natural instinct is to side with Dean. Even if she doesn't want to, even if she wants to be there for Sam.

Dean (unwittingly) recruited her to his team long ago.

But she takes a deep breath, and tries to understand.

Not that she could ever understand. Because, fuck, drinking demon blood? Choosing a motherfucking black-eye over your own flesh and blood? Jo can't imagine why anyone would do that, let alone have the moral conscience lapse to allow themselves to do it.

So she tries to accept, because everything has a reason whether it's right or wrong.

"Sam," she leans forward intently, looking him in the eye. "I'm going to be completely honest with you."

"Shit," he mutters, and starts to turn away.

"Just listen to me, okay?" it comes out harsher than she planned, and they both wince. "I'm not going to take the moral high ground with you, but what you did… it scares me. That's not the Sam I met three years ago, and it's more like the demon who used your body to hurt me."

He flinches again at the memory of his possession.

"But that's the past," continues Jo, and she struggles to say this. "The Sam that I've gotten close to over the past few weeks isn't like that. So, it's gonna be hard, but I'm going to try and put all that in the rearview mirror."

"What?" Sam looks like someone just gave him an island for Christmas. _Gobsmacked _is the word.

"Don't think things won't be awkward," she tells him. "I mean, that's one fat turd you laid in the middle of the room."

Apparently her analogy merited a snort for its tastelessness.

"This means a lot to me, Jo," says Sam, his face getting serious. "Not a lot of people would do what you're doing now."

"Hey," she jokes, trying to lighten the mood. Jo hates intense emotional talks more than fangs or black-eyes. "Anything Dean can do I can do better."

It's a winner. Sam bursts out laughing, and a real smile is on his face. It's not like she's made things less awkward between the two brothers. Far from it, because her friendship with Sam is another thing that's tearing at the middle of their relationship.

All she can do is hope someday, she brings them together rather than breaks them down.

There's a knock on the door, and Jo hops up, half-hoping it's Dean (she wants to explain things) and praying it's not (can you say awkward?). When she pulls open the door, though, it's Ellen and she looks frazzled.

"The damn vampires have up and left," she says angrily, storming into the motel room and slamming the door behind her.

"How do you know?" Jo asks anxiously. She doesn't like the sound of her mother going up there alone.

But Ellen Harvelle isn't reckless or stupid. "The locals are saying someone burnt the Mason farm up on Ksanka. I checked, and that's the one we were at last night. They must've burnt the bodies along with it."

Jo punches the wall. "Shit!" she exclaims, shaking her hand to rid it of the sting. Her expletive, however, wasn't just for the self-imposed pain.

Her mother turns to her. "I hate to ask, Jo, honey," she says, "But we gotta find them again."

"No, it's fine, I'll go," Jo tells her with an understanding smile. She's got to get out of here anyways. "Sam, would you mind leaving while I change?"

"Why are you changing?" he asks naïvely.

"Think about it."

A look of understanding and then (surprise! not) awkwardness crosses his face, and Sam leaps up to leave the room.

Jo goes through her bag while her mother goes on about the whole "missing brother" storyline, but she already knows what to do, Jo's a pro at this whole sympathy-with-sexy thing. She pulls out her most revealing shirt, a mini-skirt she keeps in case of emergencies, and a make-up and hair bag that only comes out every once and a while.

Although she doesn't wear make-up since she always has to wash her face from dirt and other unmentionable substances, Jo knows how to put it on expertly, and she goes about it methodically.

Not too much; eye shadow to match her dark purple shirt, mostly natural tones, but edgy. Mascara, eyeliner, bronzer, and the darkest red lipstick she has.

The shirt, the skirt, Ellen provides a pair of high heels from the recesses of her truck.

It feels tacky. Jo hates the way she looks when she dresses like this. She hates how men look at her as though she's not a human anymore, just something they can bone for fun. It's effective, almost always gets the job done, but it fucking sucks.

The last touch is a hair clip, holding her blonde mass of waves up in a messy, sexy twist.

Jo's completely objectified.

What Jo hates the most: when she gets all made up, sometimes she likes how she feels. The power she gets from her looks is intoxicating, and that's the worst because it scares her.

"Ellen, are we ready to go into town?" Sam knocks on the door.

Her mother opens the door. "It's just Jo today, boys."

_Boys_. Shit, they're both out there. Sam she can handle, she knows what his intentions are, but she wishes Dean wouldn't see her like this.

"I don't like it."

"Well, it's not up to you, Dean. Jo's a big girl, and she's got an advantage the three of us don't," Ellen says.

"What if she gets into trouble?" presses the older Winchester. "It's not fair for her to go at it alone."

This bothers her. "I can handle myself fine, thanks," she calls through the bathroom. "Plus, the kind of trouble I'm looking for, I'm used to by now."

Jo hardens her resolve to not cave in front of him, no matter what, and steps out of the little room, shutting off the obnoxious light.

She waits for a crude remark or a catcall, but he doesn't say anything. All he does is stare. He keeps looking at her like she's something he's never seen before, which she knows is impossible because Dean Winchester has seen it all. His mouth is slightly open, and there's no mistaking his expression for anything other than lust. It scares her and enthralls her – she wants to run away from his eyes as fast as she can, but finds a lead weight has dropped to her feet and it won't let her move.

Dean's eyes meet hers, and there's something there that makes her heart beat painfully against her chest, so hard she can't breathe. Jo feels lost, and she's just losing herself further the longer she gazes at him gazing at her.

"You going anytime soon?" Ellen asks roughly.

Jo's wrenched back to the present with harsh clarity. She needs to leave, now.

Before something makes her jump the hunter, which would be way too awkward for words.

-qp-qp-qp-qp-

(Author's Note): This was the hardest chapter to write (excepting perhaps three, but the third chapter is always a bitch to punch out), and I think after this, updates will be faster. I'm hoping to get this story done by the time "Abandon All Hope" comes out, again hoping that Jo does NOT die in it. There are nine chapters in all, and depending how depressed I am after 5x10 (aka who dies in that episode) there might be more stories. One thing I always resolutely do is stick to canon, so we'll see.

Please Review ^_^


	6. Whiskey Was Invented For Heartbreak

Disclaimer: I am a devoted servant of the Great Kripke and would never, _ever_ steal anything he's ever created. I'm just having a little bit of fun.

(Author's Note): I'm 90 percent positive that most of the hardcore Dean lovers are going to hate me after this chapter. But, oh well; he's no perfect man (close though he may be), and I can't write him like an Edward Cullen. I'm sorry, no man should be so pathetically devoted to one girl.

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Severed Heads

Chapter Six: Whiskey Was Made For Heartbreak

The first thing Jo does after her romp at the local bar is wash her face. The make-up is gone, annihilated, whatever. After all the pervo eyes on her she feels like it's the only way to get clean again, because _gross_, they were smelly men.

And the second thing she does is go next door to Sam and Dean's room. She knows her mom is in there because where else would she be?

"I got two spots," she announces, walking in. Jo deliberately ignores Dean's stare, knowing full well what would happen if she looked at him. "Apparently, there's two places that get a lot of action. One is Sophie Lake and nearby, and the other is outside of town."

"Sam, can you grab that map there?" Ellen says, already whipping out a pen.

Sam brings over the requested paper and the four lean over it.

She can _feel_ Dean's eyes on her, namely on that one part of her anatomy that's hanging out of her shirt. The flush on her cheeks is thankfully minimal.

"Here's Sophie Lake," Jo says, pointing at the "S" shaped body of water on the map. "And there's the ten lakes area. According to one extremely grabby local, both places have been seeing more activity in the past few days. He also tells me that the high school kids do their thing here too, so we can't be sure."

"I think the teeth would be a good indicator," Dean jokes.

The other three roll their eyes.

Ellen frowns, bending over the map further. "How're we gonna narrow these places down?" she asks. "It's not like there's a signpost."

"We'll just have to go over what might be a possibility," Sam says. "Ellen, do you have any other maps? Maybe with a little more detail?"

Sam follows Ellen out of the room and (presumably) next door. There's an awkward silence for a moment, and then Jo follows them to change into suitable attire. This mini skirt is a pain in the ass, literally.

Her mother, it seems, had already laid out a nice, un-revealing shirt and some practical jeans.

Thanks, mom.

"Alright, Sam, clear out," Jo says, waving her hand absently towards the door.

"Get a bathroom," he mutters.

"Talk to 'smash first, think later' about that," she reminds him as he walks out of the room. Ellen doesn't leave, but the woman's been seeing Jo naked since the sonogram images. Not to mention the woman gave birth to her.

Jo switches out of her "come hither" attire and shrugs on her pants and shirt, both practical for hunting. Her hiking shoes go on next, because they're so fucking comfortable she just can't get over it. And finally, thankfully, she lets her hair out and shakes her head to let it all hang down in her waves.

She doesn't like the way her hair falls. Of course, most people don't like their hair, so it's not a shock. However, she's been told that her hair is perfect by many a lame hunter and a few classy ones as well.

It reminds her that Ash always said her hair was the stuff of angels.

Sam knocks on the door. "You done yet?" he asks.

"Come in," she calls, sighing a little.

He eases his way inside, striding over to her with a plaintive expression. "Could I work with your mom?" he begs. "It's so awkward around Dean."

"Seriously? You're always awkward," she reminds him.

"No, I feel like he's about to start cussing me out at any moment," Sam tells her, plopping down in the chair by the door.

"Why can't you work with me?" asks Jo. She doesn't want to be alone with Dean, and it would be nice to spend time with Sam. After all, that's why he's here, and she could always use a little break from her Mussolini-mom.

"Because if your mom and Dean work together I may not have a brother left," he says solemnly.

Jo laughs for a minute until she realizes he's not joking. "Oh, come on!" she cries. "I have to work with him? Sam, I can barely be in the same room as him!"

He grins at her. "He responds well to slaps."

She sighs, realizing that Ellen would, in the most likely scenario, blow Dean's brains out after an hour alone with him. She was the only (technically) neutral party here. And even then, neutral did not cover her feelings for him with any accuracy.

"You owe me some serious mullah," Jo tells him, pointing a finger in Sam's face in an attempt to look threatening. "Really. I expect two pounds of beef jerky on my bed by tomorrow morning." This seems to crack Sam up for some unknown reason, and she's not sticking around to ask.

So she turns on her heels and stomps over to next door, where the bathroom was fully functional and _private_.

Dean's sitting on a bed, presumably his because of all the food wrappings near it.

She strides in confidently, determined not to give anything away. He hasn't earned the right, in her opinion.

"Sam doesn't want to work with you, so here I am," she says somewhat callously.

He flinches. "So even after he told you everything…" he starts.

"Dude, not interested in this discussion," Jo tells him. "Let's just look over this Ten Lakes area and find out where the fangs are holed up." She sits down, no nonsense, and immediately starts poring over maps that Sam must have brought in while she was changing.

They don't say much. Dean seems to respect her wishes not to talk about anything personal, and she's not interested in dealing with the brother's issues.

But it's killing her. All she can think is how the last time they worked on a case together; it had been her first one ever. How she had done all the hard work and in the end, it had still been Dean who saved her ass. How it's been Dean saving her ass every time they run into each other.

She's not going to let that happen again. Jo's going to save him from something, she doesn't know when or how, but she will. For once she'll look like someone competent.

Although it's wrong to notice, she keeps smelling his aftershave and the slight grease of a bacon cheeseburger. Like she wasn't distracted enough, her stomach begins to growl.

Dean laughs a little at that. "Didn't get a bite at the bar?"

"You know how it is," she grumbles. "Hot girls starve."

"Well, you shouldn't," he tells her. Jo doesn't know if the comment is more about her _lack of hotness_ or her starvation. Does it matter either way?

She groans, leaning back in her chair. "I just keep smelling that bacon cheeseburger on you, and _I want it_." Jo almost blushes when she realizes how that might sound, but logically if she doesn't blush she didn't mean it that way. So she keeps her face red free.

"I've got one in a bag over there," Dean says. "I mean, I ate some of it already, but you can have the rest."

"Thanks," she says, getting up and grabbing the bag from the desk. The burger smells delicious, and Jo pulls out her knife from her belt to check the meat. It was medium rare, just how she liked it. Slightly bleeding is the best way to eat meat, her dad always told her.

"So… you and Sam, huh?" he says casually. "I didn't see that coming."

"It's not even like that," Jo mutters. She doesn't want this conversation. Because, you know, awkward. She takes a bite and sighs happily.

Dean clears his throat and stands up, hands in his pockets. "That line is so fucking used, Jo," he tells her.

She rolls her eyes at him. "Well, doesn't make it any less true. Me an' Sam are just friends." Jo's not going to go into the whole "brother/sister" relationship they have, because odds are he'd get angry about it. And she's not interested in a temper-tantrum from a thirty-year-old man.

"Friends," he laughs. "That's a good one."

"And you wonder why I like talking to him more than you," she mutters.

"You can't like Sam more than me," he says, sounding cocky and even a little amused that she would say something like that.

Jo just rolls her eyes. "Drop it, Dean."

"Why?"

"Because I'm not interested, that's why," she snaps, putting down the cheeseburger and jabbing the tip of her knife into the table. It stands on point, quivering.

"Not interested?" Dean scoffs and cracks a mocking smile. "That's bullshit."

"Honestly, Dean," says Jo, not understanding what's happening between them. "It's _not_ all about you."

Dean walks over to her, very slowly. He reminds Jo of a mountain lion stalking its prey, and it makes her nervous and uncomfortable and scared, but still so excited she has to monitor her breaths. In and out, evenly, not freaking out. She turns around to keep herself sane.

He's right behind her now, and his hands are on the sides of her shoulders so lightly it tickles. He makes his way down her arms ever so slowly, and Jo can't help but shiver and she feels her breath hitch. It's everything she's ever wanted and nothing she's ever expected, so the thrill is twice as exquisite. Jo doesn't know what to do with herself, and she won't dare say anything in the chance he might change his mind.

Jo turns her head a little, to look at him, because this couldn't be Dean. He's never done anything like this before, and she can't imagine why he would now.

But it's really him, and his eyes are fixed on her mouth.

She doesn't understand it, everything's going bizarre and off the wall and a sort of white noise is buzzing in her ears.

And then she feels his hands on her hips, turning her around to face him ever so slowly. His hands trail across her stomach lightly, like an electric storm on her skin. Jo's trembling with anticipation and shock, needing Dean to kiss her and knowing that he won't.

She wants to see his eyes, see what he's thinking perhaps, but they're still focused on her lips. Not wanting to say anything, Jo just waits with baited breath, not knowing what's to come or how it will go.

Dean's still holding her hips, and he presses them to the edge of the motel table, and he's flush up against her.

Her heart is beating rapidly and loudly, it's as though it's shaking her ribcage. Jo's past trying to breathe normally, she's just trying to breathe. Each gasp of air is loud and shaky and pathetic, because he hasn't done anything yet.

Then he kisses her.

It's like taking a hot bubble bath.

The excitement of it finally taking place, and it's a real treat. The heat all over, almost searing but undeniably pleasant, and the jumping heart from the intensity of the water temperature. And at the same time, the relaxation, the contentment and the feeling of complete _rightness_, of sinking into peace. That it's the only place to be, and it shouldn't stop.

Jo can't find a better way of describing that moment. The shock and the heat paralyze her, then – as Dean starts to pull his lips away – she kisses him back almost desperately.

She lifts her hand to his cheek, running her palm along the stubble he always seems to have. She can feel it on her chin, too, the roughness of it.

Her hips are held in an even tighter grip as the kiss deepens.

Dean's leaning in hungrily, and so is Jo. Through this earth-shattering moment there's so much she wants to say, but she can't do anything but experience.

His mouth tastes like cheap beer but she wants it anyway, she likes that it's not minty or fruity.

It's unclear how much time has gone by – was it a second, or a lifetime? But whatever it was, he finally pulls away and steps back a little. Jo tries to catch her breath and stands up straight, bracing herself against the table.

"See?" he murmurs, and he sounds only a little out of breath. Not like her at all. "You like me more than you could ever like Sam."

The wind is knocked out of Jo and her hands go to her stomach. It's like someone has socked her hard in the gut, just to prove they could. That hot bubble bath perfection, that rightness, it's all gone so terribly wrong and it hurts, there's a knife in her heart that's twisting for good measure.

Of course it was too good to be true. Of course, he'd never kiss her because he _wants_ her. Why did she believe for even a second that life is fair?

Something breaks inside of her, and she starts to move away from him.

"What?" Dean asks, and she doesn't know why he's asking.

"You bastard," Jo spits through the lump in her throat.

"What?"

Jo can't look at him. She walks to the door and walks out of the motel room, slamming it shut behind her.

Down the stairs, out to the parking lot, into her truck, all in a haze. As soon as that door closes behind her she leans her head on the wheel and starts sobbing, great sobs that tear from her chest and hurt so much that she can't breathe through the pain.

It was her fault. She should have pushed him away the moment he got close. Jo knows that something between her and Dean Winchester will never happen and she'd only be dreaming if she thought it could.

But still she cries, because she just got her heart broken.

There's a problem with falling in love with a hunter; they'll always let you down.

Jo gives herself five minutes to feel the breaking of her heart. Five minutes to cry and feel sorry for herself and bitch and moan. Five minutes to be a girl and not a hunter.

And when her five minutes are up, she leans back in the driver's seat and wipes her eyes determinedly. She checks the mirror and sees that her eyes are all red and blotchy. She pulls a napkin from the glove compartment and wets it with the bottle of water she's got next to her, cleaning up her face. Jo Harvelle doesn't cry in front of people, and she especially doesn't cry in front of people over men.

She looks mostly better, and it'll probably be enough to pretend nothing happened.

So Jo gets out of the car and heads back up to her room.

Inside are Sam and Ellen, pouring over a hiking map of the area where the fangs might be.

Sam looks up briefly as she comes in, then does a severe double take. "Are you alright?" he asks, concerned.

Of course Sam would notice that she'd been crying, even after erasing most of the evidence from her face. Sensitive men couldn't just leave well enough alone, could they?

"I'm fine, Sam," she says brusquely, and ignores how her voice cracks a little on "Sam."

"Where've you been?"

"Just going over some logistics with Dean," says Jo, annoyed. Why did he have to push the question? "Was I supposed to be somewhere else?"

Her mom can tell something is wrong – she probably already figured out the whole story. But Ellen knows that talking about what happened isn't the best way to get Jo to open up, and it's more likely to make her want to bite one's head off.

So she says, "Sam, I'm gonna get some whiskey. I'll be back in a few." Ellen gives a meaningful look to Jo and grabs her wallet on the way out of the door.

Jo knows why it's whiskey. The woman owned a bar, after all. Her mom's always said that whiskey is the best fix for heartbreak, and it's worked so far.

Sam looks like he's about to talk again, so Jo cuts him off. "You know, Sam, I'm gonna rest up before we go hunting tonight."

He can tell she means no nonsense, so he smiles at her and leaves.

She goes to her bed and falls on it with a sigh. The sunlight is still streaming in strong, although the light is a little thinner than she would like. It's fall in Montana, and things are just a little bit colder than everywhere else.

"What the hell did you do to Jo!" she hears through the wall.

Jo sits up, surprised that Sam's voice is coming through so clearly – or at least, clear considering the amount of muffling that should occur.

"Relax man," Dean says. His voice is quieter, but the baritone carries farther.

"She looked like someone hit her in the mouth," Sam insists.

She rolls her eyes. Not that it isn't sweet in theory, but the whole white knight thing is more cringe-worthy than charming. Jo would go over there and drag Sam's ass out, but that would mean she has to deal with Dean again and she just can't do that right now.

Dean groans, and it's barely audible. "Jesus. Sorry I kissed your girlfriend, Sammy."

"She's not my girlfriend, Dean! We're not like that!"

"You guys need better lines."

"Look man, she's like a sister to me. And I'm pissed that you're hurting her."

Jo slaps her forehead. One, he admitted the context of their relationship, and that's something she didn't want him to know. Two, he had made her sound like some sort of wimpy girl who had her "brother" beat up her mean ex-boyfriend, and _god_, she could whip her own assholes.

"I didn't even do anything."

"Come on, Dean! You kissed her!"

"It's just a kiss, Sammy. I didn't ask her to marry me."

Sam lets out a growl that's more than a little weird. "Did you even stop to think how she might _feel?_"

"What the hell, man? Did I mess up your 'relationship' with her?"

"This has nothing to do with how Jo and I spend our time," Sam says. Jo strains to catch what he's saying, now that they're no longer yelling. "This is about you and Jo, and how you feel about her."

"You're such a girl."

"I know you like her, Dean. Maybe you won't man up and say it, but I know how you are when you care about someone."

Their voices have dropped so low that Jo can't hear a word of dialogue, only the rumblings to let her know that they are indeed still speaking.

To be honest, this is a conversation she doesn't really need to hear. Because she already knows how it goes. Sam goes on, being all protective, Dean makes some wise-ass comments about his sexuality, and finally he'll say, "I'm not into her, okay?"

Like she needs anymore proof after what happened between them just now.

Jo lays back down and puts a pillow over her head to block out the sunlight. She starts thinking about all the trails on the map of Ten Lakes, how two seemed to go to this one lake called Wolverine, and then another few spread away from it into the further mountains –

It struck her like a bolt of lightening.

She'd heard someone mention Wolverine when she was at the bar earlier.

"_Like, are there any good places if I don't want to sleep outside?" Jo asks, twirling her finger around a lock of hair._

_The bartender snorts. "You one of those pretty girls? Don't like getting dirty?"_

_She laughs. "Well, if it's raining, I don't want to get wet, silly," she teases, leaning forward a little bit._

_Jenkins (the guy next to her) takes his toothpick out of his mouth. "I'd peg you for a Wolverine girl," he says._

At first she'd thought he'd been talking about the animal. But with all those trails coming to and from that area she knew there was some sort of established cabin or camping ground, and suddenly the Wolverine comment made much more sense.

Cue, "Eureka!" If only Jo was lame enough (or brave enough) to say it aloud.

Ellen comes in, carrying two bottles of whiskey.

"Only a little bit, mom," says Jo. "I've figured out where they might be in the Ten Lakes area."

"Well, drink up anyway, honey," her mom says, tossing the bottle towards her. Jo easily catches it. "Whiskey was made for one thing only."

She grins and sits up, popping her shoulders.

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(Author's Note): Ahem. There will be more vampires in the next couple of chapters. I apologize for not filling my quota of blood and guts, and I hope emotional agony is enough. Again, don't hate me because I ruined their first kiss, and forgive Dean's willful ignorance.

Please Review ^_^


	7. Fate Works In Sadistic Ways

Disclaimer: I am a devoted servant of the Great Kripke and would never, _ever_ steal anything he's ever created. I'm just having a little bit of fun.

(Author's Note): Okay? Really? None of you caught the _Dark Angel_ reference I put in the last chapter? None of you? Here's the deal: whoever gets it first and puts it in a review gets a steamy one-shot with Dean and Jo in the setting of their choice for their own private collection. And when I say steamy… *wink, wink* I love my reviewers _that_ much.

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Severed Heads

Chapter Seven: Fate Works In Sadistic Ways

"Jo?"

It's Sam at the door. This has got to be the third time today he's come for a hug, or whatever.

She sighs and stomps over to the door. "Let's talk on the way to the truck, Sam, we're burning daylight here," she says brusquely.

He follows her down the stairs, and it's just plain annoying how she's walking so fast but he barely has to put in any effort to keep up. "Ellen and I were talking, and we think it's best if you and Dean do this hunt together."

"Absolutely not," Jo tells him.

Hunting with Dean and proving her capabilities would've been a fantasy right around yesterday, but damned if she would go anywhere near him now.

"Look, I think you guys just need to find some common ground," tries Sam.

"Yeah, no," she says, not pausing to talk. She rummages through the truck bed and starts pulling out some of her favorite vampire hunting tools. Where is her flamethrower…

"It's better for everyone if you just talk it out and get it over with."

"Because your little smack down earlier was so effective," snaps Jo.

Sam's face goes a little red. "How did you –"

She rolls her eyes. "The walls in this place aren't that good with muffling sound," she says. "I'm pretty sure I heard everything. By the way, I clean up my own messes, so please stop trying to act all chivalrous or whatever you're doing."

Clearly, Sam is related to a pit-bull, because he _won't let go._ "So clean up your mess and talk to him."

"Fine," she says, irritated. "But we're going in my truck."

"Actually –"

Jo's close to screaming. Alone with Dean, in the Impala? That's some dangerous shit waiting to happen, and not of the "sweet, sweet love" variety either.

But Sam looks so pathetically hopeful, and she doesn't want to disappoint him. So Jo sucks it up and glares at him before grabbing her bag and favorite machete (named, appropriately enough, Spike), and stomps over to the Impala.

Her mom gives her a sympathetic look, but Jo's not having any of it. After all, it's not just Sam that threw her to the wolves.

Gritting her teeth, she opens the passenger door and gets in, closing the door sharply behind her.

Dean's eyes are on her, and although Jo isn't looking at him she knows his face is a mixture of surprise and annoyance.

"Why are you here?" he grunts.

"We apparently need to reconcile our differences," she says icily. "I think your brother is a girl."

He snorts with amusement, but it's not enough to break the ice. Not that she was even trying to in the first place; it just happened to be the foremost thought on her mind. No man should ever be that intuitive and straight at the same time like Sam, it's ridiculous.

"Let's get this over with," Dean mutters, and starts the car.

Jo couldn't agree more. It was nearing two o'clock, although this morning felt like a lifetime ago. Had she really only spruced up today at noon? God, how weird.

Maybe when the (unwanted) love of her life laid one on her, things got a little fuzzy. Not that Jo would know, seeing as she's never really given it a trial run.

The drive is chock full of tension, but fortunately it's also relatively quiet. They're on the road for almost an hour, and she's really wishing they used her truck for this experience because things are starting to get hairy and she does _not_ trust this car to four-wheel it like her baby can.

The only interaction they actually have is Jo calling out the directions, and Dean saying "thank you" on occasion.

And then, there's the point where they can't go any further.

Dean parks the car and leans back with a sigh. "I think we should stake out here for a little while," he says, determinedly not looking at her. "See if anything happens."

"Sure," she mutters, shrugging. It's not like they can actually charge into what may be a large vampire's nest without some serious recon, and they have no idea where to go if they're not following some fresh tracks. This area looks like a frequent hiking spot, meaning too many people come through for accurate readings.

Jo snuggles down into her seat, increasing the feeling of insignificance around this god-like hunter.

"You're kind of a drama queen, you know," he says unexpectedly.

"What?" she looks at him, and for the first time since she got in the car his eyes are on her.

"Earlier. When I kissed you," Dean tells her. "You just stormed off, and then you had Sam come and yell at me for you."

She scoffs and rolls her eyes. "I told him to mind his own business."

His face gets a little harder. "You're his girl; shouldn't you be his business?"

Okay, really? "You've got the wrong idea about Sam and me. He called me up a few weeks ago and we talked, and I asked him if he would be my brother."

"Your brother?" Dean looks hurt and sounds incredulous. There was obviously still a part of him that believed he came first in Sam's life despite all their problems, and honestly, Jo wasn't going to get in the middle of those two.

"Yeah. 'On-loan brother,' as we like to say," she tells him. "But let's get back to you calling me a drama queen."

"You acted like one," he says again.

Jo looks out the window in annoyance, and has to adjust to the fact that she's actually not in her truck, and feels like she could practically be sitting on the ground. These low cars have always annoyed her when it comes to how low they are, another reason why she chose such a monster as her baby.

"I want my truck," she grumbles.

"Well, there's no way in hell I'd sit in that thing, so suck it up," Dean snaps.

Oh, no he didn't!

"I'll have you know that my baby is more fuel efficient than this pathetic piece of history," Jo snaps. To be fair, she likes the Impala, but that's not really the point. "She's got more horsepower _and_ she doesn't need new parts every few days. Yeah, that's right. I said it."

"Get out of my car!" he yells.

"Excuse me?"

He's glaring at her so fiercely that a lesser woman would cringe. As it is, she's trying to keep her bravado up.

"Nobody insults my baby, _ever!_"

Wow, he's serious. Jo feels a well of anger bubble up in her chest, and opens the car door, stepping outside and slamming it so hard the window comes close to shattering. Honestly, she can't even believe this is happening, and she curses her mom and Sam for this stupid plan.

She bends down to meet his eyes. "You care more about your damn car's _feelings_ than about my safety, don't you?" she hisses.

A look close to hatred crosses his face, and Dean in turn steps out of the Impala (with much more caution for the door) to look at her over the top.

"Don't think for one second I'm happy about having you _here_ with me," he says.

"Oh! And you thought this was my idea?" Jo laughs angrily and sarcastically, and she swears she's seeing red. All this time she thought it was an expression, but (damn straight) there's a crimson haze creeping over her sight. "I wish you'd never even _heard_ of Eureka!"

"That makes two of us!" yells Dean. "I'm tired of dealing with your shit, princess."

Jo releases a loud, derisive laugh and slams her hands down on the roof of the Impala. "What shit is that, Winchester? I mean, you're the one with issues! I've never met _anyone_ as determined to be miserable as you. And then you try to make everyone else hate you just as much as you hate yourself!"

"Say what you think of me, why don't you?" he's talking quietly now, but it's a scary quiet, much like his confrontation with Sam this morning.

"You know what, I will!" she says. Jo hasn't felt this angry since her mom tried to stop her from hunting (witnessed by the brothers, ironically). "From the first day we met, all you've done is treat me like some pathetic excuse for a human being. First I'm a piece of ass. Then I'm stupid! Then I'm incompetent! I'm sick and tired of you, Dean! All you do is make me feel like shit whenever we talk, and I can't stand it!

"And for the record, you don't go around kissing people just because you can!" she continues. "I'm not some girl in a bar; I deserve – no, I _demand_ your respect and acknowledgement! You are _not_ the only good hunter out there, and I'm a damn better person than you sometimes!"

Dean looks ready to explode. "You kissed back, miss perfect, so don't act like I made you do something you didn't want to! I'm not the bad guy here!"

"You have no idea what you're talking about!" Jo practically screams.

"Oh, yeah? Are you going to _tell_ me?"

It's a stand-off, and she knows it. Telling him is firstly tantamount to defeat, because it gives him what he wants, and he should know. She isn't inclined to embarrass herself during a fight either.

Instead, she goes for something more underhanded. "Why don't you just ask Sam? If you're not too busy making him feel like shit, that is."

His face would have been priceless if she wasn't in the mood to rip if off. "Are you forgetting everything he's done?"

"Oh, please, Dean!" scoffs Jo. "Do you think I'm stupid? No, don't answer that… I'm just wondering when you'll get off your high horse and start realizing that you shouldn't be pointing fingers anywhere but yourself."

"You have no idea what you're talking about," he echoes her, voice dangerously calm.

"You sure about that?" she taunts. "Sam's not the only one to blame here. You've fucked up just as much, only he's not shoving your face in the dirt everyday."

"Don't you dare talk about that," Dean says. "It's none of your damn business, and you don't know a fraction of it. You don't know what I've been –"

He cuts himself off, but Jo knows he was going to say "what I've been through." If she wasn't so angry at him, maybe her heart would be breaking for him.

Instead, she crosses her arms. "And out of all you've been through, how much did Sam _personally_ inflict?"

They're back to their stalemate, and in the midst of all her anger Jo can't help but notice how sexy this man in front of her is when he's all passionate and intense. And that just adds fuel to her already blazing fire. No one should have the right to distract her from a screaming match, not even Dean Winchester.

It looks as though Dean's about to say something back, but then he disappears.

"Dean?" she snaps angrily. "Don't fucking –"

There's this really sharp pain on her head, and suddenly everything looks very fuzzy, and…

-qp-qp-qp-qp-

When Jo wakes up, everything is blue.

Like a freaky electric blue that does not belong in Montana, and she can't figure out how the hell this kind of color exists, and why the hell does the blue have seams?

And for that matter, why is she on something spongy and mattress-like?

"Jo!"

Dean's voice is definitely nearby, but he doesn't seem to be the one prodding her arm. That's odd, right?

She looks over and sees a face, female, with longish unkempt hair and a nasty sneer. Hunter's instinct – a virtual sixth sense created by habit – lets Jo know that this is a vampire, and it's one that has her right where it wants her.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

Jo looks past the female fang (kinda hard when it's staring at your neck) and sees Dean being restrained by two others, male fangs. Even though it's probably the dumbest thing on the face of the planet, he looks like he's gonna do a hero thing and spring loose to "save" her.

She's terrible at inspirational, motivational, or convincing arguments. But Jo's greatest weapon (besides feminine wiles) is her humor, and she'll use it.

"Down, boy."

His face goes into momentary shock, and then he smirks a little.

The fang above Jo seems to also be stunned. "Do you _want_ to die?" it asks.

"No, not really." She's not even being flippant, which makes it so much funnier that a vampire would ask her such a stupid question. What, was she going to pull a fast one and say "Kill me now or forever hold your peace?"

Not likely.

"Show some respect," the fang hisses.

"Oh, seriously?" groans Jo. "You vampires are all the same. 'I'm better than you,' 'kneel before Zod,' all that shit. Get over yourselves!"

Again, the vampire goes into a sort of double take that would have been comical were Jo not so terrified the thing was going to rip her throat out. Weapon of Humor or not, coming face to face with death isn't so hot.

In other words, she'd never say how terrified she is, but Jo's holding back some serious shaking.

"How do you know about vampires?" the female asks, sounding a little terrified.

"Who do you think whacked Bonnie and Clyde at your little farmhouse?" she shoots back, and knows it was the rashest thing she's done yet.

Now that Jo is thinking about it, she and the fangs (plus one) are actually in a tent. It definitely explains the dome structure and the heinous blue. It's a relatively large tent, since five bodies – she can't call vampires "people" - seem to fit with room to spare. There's a couple of moldy cots, and Jo realizes that is the spongy thing she's laying on.

With a sickening thud in her stomach, she knows this will be the next food storage for all the captive humans.

"Did I pretty poor job at your car," says the vampire, after recovering from her third shock. "We got the drop on you in two seconds flat."

"That's what happens when you get thrown out of a car for saying it's stupid," Jo mutters, more to herself than anyone else.

Dean seems to have heard, though. "Hey!"

"Be quiet," one of the fangs holding him snarls.

"You think you're funny, don't you?" the female says to Jo, ignoring the male drama behind her. "I bet you think it's cool to act like you don't care."

"God, your breath stinks," Jo murmurs, not allowing the vampire to scare her any more than she already was.

"Why don't you shut up?" the fang says softly, and leans over Jo. It's kind of weird, and the teeth aren't out or anything so she's got no idea of what to expect. And then, completely unexpected, it rips open her shirt.

Huh?

"I bet you taste good," it whispers, looking at her breasts (why there? Why not her neck?) hungrily.

"I don't swing it dead," she retorts, raising a hand to cover herself.

In a flash, Jo's hand is pinned to her side and the vampire is descending towards her chest, teeth extending.

She would scream, only she's too shocked and terrified to make a sound. The female bites into her left breast and starts drinking, and…

God the world is on fire everything burns and no, no it hurts so MUCH, she wants to rip out her hair and claw out her eyes, something to distract her from this agony! Why is this happening, nothing has ever hurt so much! No, please…

"DEAN!"

The vampire pulls away, frowning. "She's too strong," it complains to the other two. "We may have to wait for them to lose their energy."

The male who had yelled at Dean to be quiet frowns. "No fair," he says. "You got to-"

"I could barely hold her down," retorts the female. "Let's go."

She rises into a sort of half-crouch, half-stand, which Jo dimly registers to be because of the tent's height.

The other male, silent until now, threatens her and Dean. "You try to leave, we'll be right behind you. We've got an eye on this tent night and day."

One by one, the fangs file out, leaving Jo to the burning pain on her breast. She whimpers.

"Jo!" Dean says frantically, scrambling over to her. "Jo! Are you alright?"

She tries to clear her head, but the pain is making everything a little fuzzier. Nonetheless, she can see the look of panicked worry on his face, and it's reassuring despite what the fear implies. Jo grapples with something to say, something to reassure him.

"That's not… how I pictured m-my first …girl-on-girl experience," she tells him.

"What?" a look of incredulity, and perhaps a little admiration, crosses his face. "That's all you can think about?"

"Of course not… dumb ass," Jo forces out. "My boob is bleeding."

Throughout all the horror, she takes a little comfort in the smile Dean's wearing. She's barely breathing, and everything feels vaguely surreal, and there's so much pain…

Dean brushes away tears she didn't know were forming in her eyes. "I thought… I thought she might've killed you," he confesses, cupping her cheek tenderly.

That single, gentle gesture does more to ease the pain than he could possibly imagine. Any other situation, it would be an indication of affection and love and amidst all the haze Jo can acknowledge and even cherish that. Still, it wasn't doing anything for her bleeding.

"Rip the rest of my shirt," she instructs weakly.

"What?" he looks thrown by her demand.

"Rip it," she repeats. "Take a strip and hold it down on the wound as a compress."

Carefully, Dean follows the tear line created by the fang, and opens her shirt completely. He's completely gentle as he guides her arms out of the holes, and makes soothing sounds when she whimpers even as she tries to close her throat from the sound.

Somewhere between consciousness and a dream world, Jo thinks about how great a dad Dean would be. She still doesn't want kids, she knows that, but if she were to have any they would have to be with Dean.

Of course, she doesn't know what Ellen would say to that. Her mother's always thought highly of the Winchester brothers when it comes to hunting, and Jo knows she loves them both like family, but she doesn't know if her mom would be all that keen on her only daughter procreating with one of them.

Except… hadn't she implied that Sam would be an ideal boyfriend?

Jo would never actually consider it, but her mom obviously thought Dean was all wrong for her. Perhaps that was part of the initial attraction, that he was so wrong, yet so very right. But how could anyone be wrong when they were so gentle and caring when it counted?

She remembers their kiss, and suddenly the impact isn't so serious because she knows he'll always be there when she needs it.

A pressure on her left breast brings Jo back from her foggy musings.

One look acknowledges Dean placing a large hand over her ruined shirt and applying a light force.

Was it so wrong, she wonders idly, to notice that his hand covered her boob perfectly?

"A little harder," says Jo, pointedly ignoring the double meaning.

"Oh, er, yeah. Sure," he agrees, sounding distracted. She's fairly certain what's on his mind now that he can't visibly see her wound.

"I bet when you imagined groping me there was a lot less blood, huh," she says.

Dean looks uncomfortable. "I've never –"

"Come on," she teases. Part of this – the part that isn't screaming in pain – feels like it could happen every day with him, like a morning after talk. "You're the kind of guy who imagines most attractive women he sees in bed."

He looks ready to disagree, and then sighs. "Yeah," he says, cracking a grin. "And I pictured some sexy lingerie."

Jo rolls her eyes. "If we get out of this alive, you'll get your fantasy," she promises.

That seems to have shocked him, and he momentarily lets up his hand. "Seriously?" he asks.

"I don't joke about sex when I'm in life or death situations."

They're quiet after that, and Jo knows what he's thinking about. The glazed look in his eyes kind of speaks for itself.

For her part, Jo's secretly elated that, after all these years of angst, Dean's finally admitted to finding her attractive, even sexy. He's acknowledged that he's thought – dreamt, even – about having sex with her.

Only, she doesn't know how she'll be able to go through with something so intimate, knowing that his interest is purely physical.

"The bleeding's stopped," Dean murmurs.

"Good," whispers Jo. "What time is it?"

"I don't know, but judging from the light I'd say it's probably twilight now," he says, looking up at the tent roof.

"That's ironic," she says, shivering slightly in the Montana cold. With nothing but a bra on, she's got a feeling she'll be colder tonight than ever.

Dean lifts the bloody remains of her shirt with some difficulty, as the fabric has started to stick to her skin. His face when the wound is revealed again is one of disgust and horror, and she knows that it must be pretty bad for him to be grossed out.

"I'm gonna kill that bitch myself," he growls.

"Have fun with that without a machete," Jo reminds him, now really shaking.

He notices. "Here," he says, peeling off his leather jacket and helping her sit up. Jo grits her teeth and puts her arms through the holes, and wraps it around her body. it feels like she's drowning in Dean's scent, but it's still warm from his body heat and it's big enough to cover her completely.

She smiles softly at him. "Thanks."

"Rest up," Dean says. "I'll wake you up when it's time for you to watch for those bloodsuckers to come back."

It would be hard to put into words how grateful she is that Dean's not treating her any differently than he would Sam if they were in the exact same situation. It's hard, and Jo's so tired, so she lays down on the molding cot and drifts off to a sleep that involves her, Dean, and some sexy lingerie.

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(Author's Note): The reason I wrote the bite scene directed onto her breast wasn't to make things sexy, it was more to illustrate how sick vampires really are. Just to put that out there. Start looking for that Dark Angel reference!

Please Review ^_^


	8. A Rock Is As Good As Anything

Disclaimer: I am a devoted servant of the Great Kripke and would never, _ever_ steal anything he's ever created. I'm just having a little bit of fun.

(Author's Note): A public congratulations to _weaselnik_ for being the first (well, only) to call the line "It's not even like that." Name your choice setting, if you will.

I give all my thanks for the (hopefully well-crafted) action scene to the _Last of the Mohicans_ soundtrack. Just for a dab of irony, the movie is actually what got me so fascinated with slitting throats and severed heads to begin with. I recommend listening to the music on youtube or something while reading for enhanced experience.

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Severed Heads

Chapter Eight: A Rock Is As Good As Anything

Dean is sleeping on the molding cot as Jo keeps watch for the fangs to return. But all she can watch is him, and it strikes her again (as it does every time she looks at him) that he's the most beautiful man she's ever laid eyes on.

To be honest, it really isn't fair.

He walks into her life, all leather jackets and cocky angst and piercing eyes, and the air seems thicker around him – like he's so in control of the world he can bend laws of science. He makes her feel young and stupid, but beautiful and special, all at the same time.

Jo remembers the first time she met him. She had a hunting rifle to his back and nearly broke his nose when he took it away from her. That was fun.

But what stands out to her was the moment where he started to hit on her, and decided not to. She had a double-take at that moment, because she'd pegged him for a lame pick-up kind of guy when he started eyeing her ass.

He probably was, and still is.

All she could think then, was _this guy has so much more to him_.

That was the moment, she decides. That was the instant where Jo Harvelle started to fall in love. It wasn't an overnight, "doomed lovers" sort of love. It was the kind that grew a little more each day when you weren't paying attention, and then _wham!_ You realize it's too late because it's not just a seed anymore, it's a fucking redwood tree and there's no possible way to cut it down now since it's a part of who you are.

And Jo knows as she looks at him now, she doesn't want to stop loving him anymore.

It was all she could think about ever since it started.

He's broken her heart at least five times, and he'll never feel the same way, but there's something so _good_ about him underneath all the pain and the bravado that Jo knows he's the only guy she'll ever truly want.

Last night proved that more than anything else. The way he was so gentle with her, how he treated her as an equal yet so tenderly, so carefully. And the feel of his hand on her cheek and on her breast still lingers, the scent of his jacket comforting her through the fading – yet present – pain.

Dean stirs and opens his eyes slowly.

Jo turns her eyes to the door before he can see her looking at him.

"How long was I out?" he asks.

"About four hours," she tells him, checking her watch. "It's nearly six in the morning. They should be back soon."

"How's your bite?"

"It hurts like a mother, but it's not gonna be a problem," Jo says honestly.

"Okay." He's silent now.

She wants to apologize for their fight yesterday, but doesn't know how to start. After all, any apology she has starts with her feelings, and that's an instant yuck factor.

Blood and guts are so much easier.

"I know I'm not the nicest guy, Jo," says Dean, and she hears his voice crack a little. "I haven't always treated you like I should. But I guess to me, a kiss is just a kiss. Honestly, I don't know what I did wrong, and I won't until you tell me."

She lets out a shaky sigh, because her secret has to come out. "Everyone knows but you," she says, her voice as tremulous as her hands.

"So clue me in," Dean insists.

"A kiss is just a kiss, unless you…" Jo takes a deep breath, steadying herself. "Unless you care about the person you're kissing."

"I care about you," he says softly, and it's the warmest thing she's ever heard him say.

Jo moves her eyes to his face, and sees the patient expression he's wearing, and her heart breaks again. She doesn't want to say it, she wants to erase the past two days like they never happened and do them differently, do them right so this moment would never come to pass.

"That's not the kind of caring I mean," she whispers.

"What –" she watches his face stay confused, and then enlightened, and at last chagrined.

"So when you…" Jo can't say _kissed me_, "It meant a lot more than you realized. And it hurt a lot more than it should."

"I didn't…" he begins.

She turns her head and stares determinedly at the nylon seam above their heads, willing herself not to cry as the confession went on. "I honestly wish I felt differently, Dean. It's awkward, and it makes things more complicated than they should be."

"Jo, if I had known –"

"What, Dean?" she asks, looking at him again. "Should I expect something else from you now? Special treatment?"

Dean seems to be at a loss for words, which she has to marvel at because he's always kept them coming.

She leans forward cautiously. "I don't really care," she tells him. "I think I've gotten it by now; you don't think of me like that. I'm just a schoolgirl to you."

"No!" he says hurriedly. "I don't think you're a schoolgirl. I mean, you used to be so young and… I dunno, kinda naïve."

"Wow, thanks."

"Jo, shut up," Dean says. His face hasn't looked this serious in a long time. "But I've seen you take down vampires on your own, and the way you handled yourself last night when that vampire was trying to take you down, I mean, you've really changed. You're a hunter now."

It's not like he said she was beautiful or anything, but it's still the best compliment she could've gotten from him.

Jo tries (and fails) not to blush. "Thanks," she says gruffly.

He smiles at her, tentatively because this is probably unfamiliar territory. "I'm, um, sorry. If I'd known how you felt, I mean, I wouldn't have done… that."

They both know he's talking about the kiss, and the resentment just flows out of her. After all, Jo knows he isn't a perfect guy (who would want one), so this apology feels genuine and special and it's a thousand times easier than she thought it would have been.

"I know," she says, surprising herself.

A few more minutes of silence, and she's got no idea what to say now the giant stain on the rug has been acknowledged.

"Where do we go from here?" asks Dean.

"We have to go somewhere?" she says incredulously. It's nice that he's trying and all, but obviously this doesn't happen to him that often. Women saying "I love you," that is, only in not so many words. It strikes her that maybe he only thinks she's got a silly crush on him or something, which is better than the alternative.

"Yeah, I mean… this changes things."

Jo raises her eyebrows and looks disparagingly at him. "The only thing that's changed is what you know. I'm probably not gonna feel any different, and I doubt you're going to fall madly in love with me. It's best not to touch it."

"Well, I really do…" Dean seems to be struggling with something to say, and she doesn't want to hear it.

"What? Do we have to talk about our feelings now?" she says. "Well, here's something; your jacket is much too big for me. D'you mind if I trade you for the one you have on?"

He looks down at his body, and looks back up.

It's undeniable that the denim, button up jacket would fit her better. Dean sighs and shrugs it off, tossing it towards her. She slides off the hulking leather one.

"Hey, whoa! What are you doing?" Dean asks.

Jo looks at him. "Oh, come on," she exclaims. "You've seen everything by now."

He looks uncomfortable. "But –"

"But nothing," she says firmly. "Besides, the nasty bite is probably a turn off, even for you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

She ignores him.

Jo winces as she tugs her arms through the worn denim sleeves of Dean's under-jacket (who _actually_ has two jackets?), the scab threatening to open as her skin stretches. As she buttons it up, though, the pain dulls a little and the sharp stabbing sensation lets up enough to allow her ease of breath.

Dean starts chuckling, and she looks at him inquisitively.

"What's up?" she asks.

"I was just thinking… _this_ is the start of an epic friendship," he says, smiling. "Nothing brings two people together like being trapped in a tent, in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by hungry vampires who bite the wrong body parts."

"It could be worse," Jo offers, starting to grin herself. "You could run me off a bridge with your car."

"That's not a half-bad idea," he muses.

She wants to say something snarky in return, but there's suddenly a bloodcurdling scream outside, followed by the soft whistle of air and the sickening thud of (she'd know it anywhere) metal cutting bone. A splash of blood drenches the side of their tent, and the snarls of vampires color the air.

Dean looks at her, and they both realize what's happening. "Sam," they say in unison.

Jo's the first one to move for the door, grabbing the zipper and swinging it down to let them out. She climbs through the flap in a crouch, ready to turn around and fight at any second. When she spins, it's pandemonium.

Sam and Ellen are in the middle of a horde of vampires, more than Jo's ever imagined could be in one group. There's got to be twenty of them, and they're all trying to rip the two hunters to shreds.

Dean comes to stand beside her. "What are we waiting for?" he asks, the edge in his voice.

She knows that edge because it's the same thing in her blood right now. Their eyes meet, and at the same time they dash forward into the frenzy.

In the first second she loses track of Dean, but Jo knows he can take care of himself. She's got bigger things to worry about.

Jo aims a kick at the back of a female vampire's knee, causing it to buckle and fall to the ground. A machete passes through its neck and sends the head flying to the right. She looks up and grabs the weapon from Sam's hand, another one already in his right palm.

Something pushes her to the ground face-first; adrenaline gives her the strength to push her elbow straight into the fang's gut and it falls back with a snarl.

She rolls over in a flash and kicks her legs straight up to slam the male vampire in the stomach. It doubles over for a few seconds, just enough time for her to spring to her feet.

The fang lunges for her and grabs her left shoulder, and Jo cries out in pain as her wound breaks open again. She grits her teeth and raises her right arm high, and chops down near the elbow. The male screams and falls back slightly.

To keep from puking, she blocks out the repulsive feeling of a severed limb flopping off her body, hand twitching at her feet and tickling her shin lamely.

A part of her wonders at the cool efficiency with which she slices off the screaming vampire's head, some of its neck parts splattering on her.

There's another male to her right that's ganging up on Ellen with two females.

Jo runs up to the male and wrenches it around by its shoulder, punching the thing in her face with the handle of her machete behind the blow. It takes a step back, and that's all she needs. Its headless body crumples, the blood from its spurting neck showering her. Her mom gives her a glance of gratitude before taking on one of the females.

The second one turns to Jo with a growl and pounces. They fall to the ground, the fang on top and its teeth coming dangerously close to her neck.

She grabs the female's hair and yanks backwards, pulling its head away just enough for comfort, but the thing is stronger than her.

Her wound is being pulled apart further by the angle of the vampire on top of her, and tears start springing to her eyes from the blinding agony. Whimpering, Jo drops her machete and feels around for a rock to bash the female's skull in.

A heel smashes down on her pinkie and ring fingers, and she screams. They must be broken, she's had broken fingers before and this pain is exactly it, this searing, aching, torturous pain is clouding her head. For a moment she's tempted to release her hold on the fang's slowly lowering head to cradle her hand.

But she doesn't.

Even as she's sobbing, and her breast feels like it's tearing in half, Jo uses all her willpower to continue feeling around for a rock, and – there, she's found one!

The pain worsens as she picks it up, cradles the heavy stone in her hand with all five fingers even though she can only manage to work three of them. Her right hand is screaming in anguish, her hold is weakening on the female's hair and its eyes light up in sadistic victory.

In one motion, Jo pulls back its head with adrenaline-charged strength and slams her damaged fist, curled around the rock, into the vampire's nose and feels the bone splinter.

The sound she releases in animalistic in nature, a raw expression of suffering. Jo feels as though her very lungs are ripping out of her chest from the cry.

The fang rolls off her, temporarily paralyzed but still not dead.

Jo knows what she has to do, even while the pain from her hand and her breast are making her dizzy. With both hands she grips the machete and struggles to her knees. She raises the blade over her head and lets it come swinging down in a fierce chop.

Several tears fall down her face, but she ignores them and turns to the next vampire.

Thankfully, this one is distracted in a fight with one of the other three. She doesn't really care who, all she cares about is killing the thing.

Her arms shake a little as she hefts the weapon and gives a sharp chop to its neck, the male head flying off with a sickening sort of crunch and a "thwick" sound. To keep from crying out, Jo clamps her jaw shut and starts scanning the area once more, only to feel a pair of arms encircle her waist.

Somehow, throughout all the haze, she can sense it's Dean.

"Jo, it's over," his deep voice says, sounding worried. "Let go."

She'll do anything for him.

Jo releases the machete with a grunt in the back of her throat, right hand shaking from pain.

Dean turns her around, grabbing her wrist gently and looking at her hand. "Come with me," he says, and she does.

He takes her to a stream, one that she hadn't seen during the fray. Dean helps her kneel down and sticks her hand in the water, and she's numbly surprised at the ice-cold shock. It soothes her fingers, numbing them from the pain.

"Your bite," he says anxiously. "It's bleeding again."

"Y-yeah," she mumbles, shaking slightly. Jo wants to say something funny or witty to reassure him like she did last night, but her body is in shock.

"Here." Dean unbuttons his jacket that she's wearing and pulls from his own pocket her ripped shirt from before, pressing the fabric against her wound in a less intimate fashion than before. Jo moves her hand to slide under his, taking over her own care.

"Go h-help someone e-e-else," says Jo, knowing she's not the only one to get hurt.

Strange, but for a second Dean seems like he's going to resist. With a sigh, he gets up and walks back to where all of the decapitated bodies lie.

A period of time passes, and Jo can't be sure whether it's only several minutes or perhaps an hour. Whatever it is, she unclenches her jaw at the end of it and looks up to see the sun grazing the top of the trees, almost white in the new light.

She stands up with a groan and pulls her ruined shirt away from her breast. One-handed wrapping jobs aren't her specialty, but Jo makes do and binds her four fingers together on her right hand as tightly as she can. Thank god for field med back in college. Best part of that one semester.

Leg muscles aching, Jo meanders back to where Ellen and Dean are gathering heads and bodies, and throwing them into a pile.

What grosses her out and gives her an urge for hysterical giggles is that the point of origin is a rock-ringed campfire, no doubt used for s'mores and other goodies.

Without speaking, she grabs an arm with her good hand and drags the headless body over to the pile.

"What are you doing?" Sam asks, coming up behind her. He's rolling his shoulder like it just got popped back into place (which it probably has). "Your fingers are broken."

"No, they're not. I'm sure they're just bruised," says Jo, bending down to pick up a head and tossing it into the center. _Bull's eye_, her brain notes coolly. Honestly, now that she's not in the heat of the moment, she can measure the pain in her fingers to previous breaks and it's not quite so bad.

"Still, you should give yourself a break –" he tries again.

"Sam," she says tiredly, turning to face him. "I don't see anyone else taking a break."

His eyes are full of understanding, and she silently thanks him for letting her carry on, to really be a hunter.

Although Jo can't do as much with only one hand, she still helps to collect the vampire pieces until the pile is complete. The snow and rain will wash away the blood, and the stench.

Ellen walks around, throwing gasoline wherever possible. Sam pulls a lighter out of his pocket and flicks it on, but Dean holds up a hand.

"I said I'd do it," he tells Jo, and with his other hand lifts up the severed head of the female that bit her.

Despite the mind numbing pain, she smiles at him.

"Okay, go," Dean says to his brother, and Sam throws the lighter onto the pile of dead fangs.

The flames begin, and the four of them start heading down before the stench of burning flesh stings their nostrils.

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(Author's Note): Since I've been on a Smallville kick lately (like, netflixing all the seasons to watch in a marathon -kind of- kick), and _ReporterGirl13_ and _beyondwonder_ gave a little shout-out to "Kneel before Zod," there's a reference hidden in this chapter for a second chance at a personal one-shot. This is more fun than I thought it would be.

Please Review ^_^


	9. Take It Or Leave It

Disclaimer: I am a devoted servant of the Great Kripke and would never, _ever_ steal anything he's ever created. I'm just having a little bit of fun.

(Author's Note): Yeah, so I had to see what would happen in "Abandon All Hope" to keep this chapter canon, and then I was depressed so sorry about the wait. This is the last chapter, and when I can work up the chutzpah I'll write a tag for Jo for 5x10.

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Severed Heads

Chapter Nine: Take It Or Leave It

The first thing Jo does when they get back to the motel is go to the bathroom in Sam and Dean's room. Her fingers are throbbing, but at least she can move them now, although it hurts like a bitch. Trying to only use her left hand, Jo unbuttons Dean's jacket and lets it fall to the ground, staring at her wound.

It's disgusting. No wonder Dean looked ready to puke. There's no way in hell anyone would ever want to have sex with her, not with this oozing, green, repulsive tear.

Sam knocks on the door. "Jo? You alright in there?"

"I'm…" she can't say _fine_, because she's not. Sam opens the door and steps inside with her.

"It looks pretty bad," he says, grimacing.

"Yeah," says Jo, feeling herself get teary eyed. Dammit, she does _not_ want to cry. "Is it totally shallow of me if I say I'm not as beautiful now?"

He looks at her, shocked. "I didn't know you cared about that sort of thing."

She presses her lips together, holding back a hysterical laugh. "Sam, do you think that, just because I'd rather hunt than work at Hooters, I don't care what I look like? It's not like I'm all bad ass, all the time. You can't expect that from me."

At that moment, she can hear her phone go off on the other side of the door.

"Britney Spears?" Sam asks, starting to laugh.

Jo chooses to ignore him; he just doesn't understand Brit. She pushes past him out the door and picks up her phone, seeing it's Rufus.

She flips it open. "What's up, Santa?" she says, not allowing a hint of her shock into her voice. Rufus seems to think he's some sort of protector when it comes to her. Not even in a good kick-your-ass way, just up close and personal. He'd freak if he knew about the vampire thing.

"I see you got out of the vampire nest," the old hunter says gruffly.

Dammit.

"Yup," she tells him. "Did mumsy let you in on our little adventure?"

"You're a cheeky girl," he growls. "And yes, your mother told me you and Dean Winchester got captured by the fangs you were hunting. Poor form."

"Sorry, gramps," Jo mutters. "In my defense, we were distracted."

Rufus makes a discontented sound. "I'm ashamed of you, Jo Harvelle," he tells her. "You've come so far, and then you go ahead and start canoodling with the first hunter you're alone with? That's not what I expected from you."

Jesus Christ. "We weren't _canoodling_," she snaps. Behind her, she can hear Sam laugh and sends him a death glare over her shoulder. "And by the way, keep up with the times. It's called hooking up now. But just so we're clear, Dean and I were arguing."

"So that's what they're calling it these days?"

"I can't talk to you when you go senile on me," grumbles Jo. "I'm alive, I'm relatively unscathed, and I'm hanging up now."

Before he can begin to protest, Jo snaps her phone shut and puts it back down on the table.

Sam seems to be choking on his laughter, which she doesn't find amusing. She walks over and smacks him on the head, and curses loudly as her scab stretches.

"Stop being so tall," demands Jo. All that accomplishes is Sam doubling over, shaking with mirth. "Oh, shut up!"

"Go put a shirt on," he advises. She goes to the bathroom to grab Dean's jacket, but Sam's voice stops her. "Jo," he says kindly. "You got hurt trying to do good. It makes you even more beautiful when I think about the person you are, who would risk her life for other people."

The sentiment (while entirely Sam, and feminine) reassures her somewhat, and Jo nods before grabbing the jacket off the floor.

Before she leaves the room to go next door, Jo puts her ear to the wall and listens for Dean. She can't hear him, so she opens the door and slips out, running on her toes and stepping inside daintily.

Jo heads into the bathroom and runs the water, climbing inside the tub for a bath. The hot water relaxes her until she puts her right hand under.

The sting of her enflamed fingers meeting the heat causes her to yelp and jerk her hand back out. She holds her breath in case Dean decides to burst through the door again to "save" her, but it's mercifully quiet.

She leans back, and tries not to look at the greenish bite on her breast.

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Jo's lying on her back in the soft sunlight, reclining on a park bench. The park isn't overly huge but it has a creek running through it and the sound is peaceful. She's playing a lazy game of thumb war with Sam and Sam's mostly winning, but in her defense she's not left-handed.

"You suck," she grumbles as he pins her thumb again.

"You suck, man, you keep losing," laughs Sam.

They hear Dean clear his throat, and Jo shifts herself up to recline on her elbows.

What she doesn't expect to see is the sexy trench coat guy/the angel Castiel standing next to Dean and looking at her and Sam curiously. She shamefully feels her face flush as his eyes meet hers, and he doesn't look away.

The seconds go by slowly as their eyes meet, and he has really pretty eyes… hot damn.

"Cas, don't do the eye thing, remember?" Dean says gruffly. "Humans get uncomfortable –"

"I don't mind," Jo says in a small voice, rolling her shoulders back slightly and flicking hair out of her eyes. She doesn't even notice she's doing it until Sam snorts beside her.

The angel looks expectantly at Dean, who shakes his head.

"I came here to tell you the Colt needs to be found," Cas says. "I gave you two days, and your task is done."

"Could we help?" Ellen asks from one park bench over.

Sam shook his head. "It's too dangerous," Sam tells her. "I don't want Jo or you getting hurt."

Jo glances over at her mother, whose face has the exact same expression Jo knows she's wearing. There's an understanding passed between them, and Jo looks back at Sam, raising her eyebrows. And he doesn't seem to get what she's trying to communicate.

So she smacks him on the arm. "We're in, Sam. Whether you like it or not."

"Thanks, but we can't-" he tries again.

"As soon as we know it's location, we'll call you," Dean interrupts. He gives Sam a pointed look as he says, "We need all the help we can get."

Obviously, Sam isn't happy about this, but Jo can tell he doesn't want to stir the waters anymore.

She looks back at Cas, who meets her gaze. The sharp piercing pain in her head from two nights before returns, and she blinks. The angel cocks his head to the side a little, and looks at her like she's some sort of alien specimen. Which is ironic because this is her planet and not some divine being's.

Dean grabs Cas and walks him away from the group, breaking her staring match.

"You know, angels aren't really interested in romance," Sam says next to her.

Jo blushes. "I'm sorry, some hot angel guy wants to stare me down, I'm not gonna complain."

Sam raises an eyebrow. "Some hot angel guy?"

"Oh, like you haven't noticed," she snaps at him.

"I really haven't," he says. "I don't check out guys."

Jo smacks him on the arm. "You know what I mean! I think Britney Spears is gorgeous, but I'm not attracted to her. What, men can't admit other men are attractive?"

He snorts. "I think you're making Dean jealous," he tells her, his voice shaking with humor.

"He's got nothing to worry about," she mutters, looking away from the two men. To be realistic, she's always gonna find other men attractive, just like she knows Dean's eyes wander so much it's amazing they haven't fallen out of his head. But neither of them was made for monogyny.

It doesn't change how she feels about him, though. And she's stopped caring about whether it'll hurt or not.

She glances over at Dean and Castiel again, only to find that the angel has vanished. Jo blinks as Dean comes back over.

"Cas is right, we should go now," the older Winchester says.

"In that case," Ellen says, getting up, "We should get going too. There's been some demonic omens in Omaha, and Caleb wants us there."

Jo remembers Uncle Caleb. He's not really her uncle, but he was her dad's best friend ever since she could crawl, and Ellen talks about him from time to time. They've never gone hunting together before though, so she's anxious to see him again after all these years.

"I'll see you around, Jo," Sam says, smiling at her. She reaches over and gives him a hug, his bear-like arms cradling her. Sam hugs are pretty much her favorite, she decides.

"Boys," her mom addresses the two. She glances at Sam. "I've got some stuff I need you to carry. Come on."

Neither Jo or Dean is fooled by this as the two head off to the cars. They both watch Sam and Ellen walk off (rather quickly, to be honest), and then glance at each other. Dean starts to laugh, and she joins in, breaking whatever ice that might have frosted over in the past few hours.

He cocks his head towards their wayward companions. "I think they're trying to set us up," he says.

"I think you're right," agrees Jo. "Sam, I could see doing that. But I can't believe my mom's in on it."

"I always thought your mother would chop off my balls if I ever went near you," Dean jokes, starting to follow the other two. Jo catches up to him.

"So that's why you never made a move," she assumes.

"It's definitely part of it."

She casts a sideways looks at him; Dean's face is tight, guarded. It's recognizable because it's the face she wears whenever someone gets too close to the truth for her liking. But when it comes to Dean, she's not going to back down and neither would he if the roles were reversed.

Jo elbows him. "What's the other part?"

He actually squirms. "Well, I mean…" they reach the cars, and she can see both Sam and Ellen sitting in the passenger seats. Waiting. Dean rests against the bonnet of his car and Jo stands a couple feet away from him.

"Tell me," she insists.

"Here's the thing," he tells her hastily. Like he's spitting it out before it curdles in his mouth. "I like you a lot, Jo, and being with you only makes things more complicated than they need to be. 'Cause I'm not the kind of guy to settle down or whatever."

She gives him a lopsided grin. "Do I look like the settle down kind of girl?"

Dean raises his eyebrows. "Not really."

"It's okay," Jo says, trying to quench any romantic fuzzy feelings that didn't belong. "I mean, I've figured it out by now. We both have bigger things to do than sit around and talk about our feelings. I wouldn't even want a relationship like that."

"Yeah, me neither," he agrees quickly. "That's a Sam thing."

Jo shoves her left hand into her back pocket. "I guess I don't want things to be awkward between us," she tells him.

"I don't want them to be either," says Dean. He looks extremely uncomfortable, and she's betting he rarely does this. Rarely as in _never._

"So… I'll see you around, then," she says (awkwardly).

"Yeah… see you," he mutters.

Neither of them moves, and then Jo groans. "Screw it," she says, and launches herself at him.

Dean catches her and pulls her against his body, hands on her waist. She reaches up and kisses him roughly, dragging her hand along his unshaven jaw. His right hand goes to her face, threading his fingers through her hair.

This is how their first kiss was supposed to be. It was the right place for it, the right time, and no one was proving a point.

Jo feels his belt buckle bite into her skin as her shirt lifts up, can feel his fingers grip her lower back with his nails digging in. the sharpness of it causes her to gasp into his mouth, and (she knew he would) Dean takes advantage of the moment to flick his tongue against the roof of her mouth.

She runs her own tongue on the bottom of his lip, greedily searching for his taste of cheap beer and the accompanying hint of salty French fries. Until now Jo didn't realize how addictive his flavor was.

His hand detangles itself from her hair and travels down her neck, to her collarbone, and drops to trace her scab.

For a moment, she can't breathe because the fear of rejection and the belief that she's no longer desirable both burst to the surface.

And then Dean's hand on her waist runs up her arm and cradles her neck, bringing her flush against him, leaving no gaps between his body and hers. Jo wraps her arms around his neck and pulls his head closer to hers. Throughout all this, he's continued to caress her wound.

Not in a longing way, like the rest of their bodies are reacting, but tenderly, gently. Almost as though he's telling her she's beautiful.

Jo wants the kiss to go on forever, but she senses that if they were to go on they would need to check back into the Silverado. So (with a hell of a lot of effort) pulls away from him and steps back, panting.

"What was that for?" Dean asks. His chest is heaving and she notes that with satisfaction.

"Take it or leave it," she says breathlessly, backing away.

Dean looks like someone just hit him over the head, and that's probably because the ball's in her court now, not his. For once, Jo's got the power in the twisted thing she'd have to call a relationship for lack of a better word. She's calling the shots and he can't do a damn thing about it.

She smirks at him as she turns around and walks to the drivers' seat in her truck. Jo opens the door and hoists herself in, and looks over to see her mom grinning at her.

"What?" Jo asks.

"You just stunned a Winchester man," Ellen tells her, pride exploding through her voice. "You're truly a Harvelle hunter now."

Jo into the rearview mirror and sees Dean still resting against the bonnet of the Impala, rubbing the back of his neck and with a curious expression on his face. She grins and puts the keys in the ignition, and drives away.

The End (for now)

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(Author's Note): *Sighs* It's over. And now, onto my other story, plus a couple of promised one-shots and tags. That reminds me... I have a question for you guys – if I were to post a one-shot featuring –ahem- Jo and Dean with smut, would you read it? Because the last time I wrote something explicit it was actually a rape scene and it made me cringe just writing it. I know, I know… slightly different context.

Please Review ^_^


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